I know angst sells but…

…the most angsty thing in my life at the moment is whether the ball is going to fall off my barbell!

So, in the absence of anything juicy to write about, I’ll write a bit of an update.

January 15th was the anniversary of my thirty second year on this planet. Master and I celebrated by going down to the southwest region of Western Australia. It’s an area full of wineries and tall forests and in an attempt to cross more things off my ‘to see’ list, Master took two days off work to make a four-day weekend and off we went.

Normally I like a good hit of travel, but my road trip from Perth to Melbourne with Master a couple of years ago taught me a very valuable lesson:

snoring man + me in same bed = not a happy kitten

Therefore, whenever there is travel planned, I always make sure to pack several pairs of earplugs and many headache tablets in preparation of several nights of sleep deprivation. For two and a half years we’ve slept in different bedrooms, with ravishing sessions taking place in his bed before I skip off to my ‘slave cell’, so spending several nights with the ‘freight-train’ aka Master is always a challenge.

However, for some unknown reason, I slept really well this time. I even managed to sleep through a car alarm that, Master says, rang for over an hour at 1am outside our hotel room. It was a miracle ūüôā

The area was nice, but nothing exciting. The trees were also big, but not as big as I’d expected. Master and I have both been tainted by overseas travel and find Australia to be big, dry and mostly boring. I’ve only seen a small fraction of Australia, but Master has seen just about all of it, several times over in fact, and he is mostly of the same opinion.

I milked my birthday for all it was worth and at every opportunity reminded him that it was *my birthday* and therefore we should do X. The next day was *my birthday plus 1* and therefore we should do Y. In fact, I think I milked it for about a week!

January 12th I had had a job interview with a Japanese trading company looking for someone to do admin. The day before Master and I had scouted out where the office was and before we were even half way there, I’d decided that there was no way in hell I was going to commute that far everyday. I told the recruiter that it was too far for too little money and thanks but no thanks. The general manager, however, had apparently really liked me and wasn’t going to give up that easily. Then followed seven days of salary and working conditions negotiations done in a flurry of cell phone calls and emails. I spent most of the trip down south answering calls when my cell had reception and in the end we settled on 3 days a week at an agreed rate and I started January 21st.

My first day of work we took a 2hr lunch next to the beach in Fremantle and I kicked back with seafood and wine. The whole time I was thinking back to my workplace in the public service where if you were one minute over your allotted five minute toilet break, your manager would come looking for you. I knew I wasn’t in Kansas anymore Toto!

Saturday 24th was the play party I wrote about in my previous entry and then Monday 26th was a public holiday for Australia day. I decided to work Wed, Thur, Fri this week so I had today off and spent most of it cleaning and babysitting the electrician who came to fix the watering system. His services cost $170….and no, I didn’t offer to blow him.

After he left I looked at some porn, let me re-phrase that, spent 2hrs downloading 3 mins of clips (due to our shitty net connection) to feed my fantasies and had a release. Once more, I’ve kept up my tradesman-visits-the-house-and-I-have-a-release recipe.

Around 5:20pm I had a call from Master to tell me that Anthony Warlow was going to be on the radio at 5:30pm. Anthony Warlow is playing the lead in the production of Phantom of the Opera that we are going to see next month and I’ve been lusting after him since I first saw him play the Phantom in 1990. Master had heard that he was going to be on the radio when he was travelling back 3hrs to work after a meeting in Perth today, so he scouted out a public phone and called to let me know (his cell was flat). As soon as I heard, I was racing around the house trying to find….a radio!

My first instinct was to listen to it on the net….then when I tried to go to the station’s homepage and 5mins later it was still loading, I thought it was a bad plan. I then remembered the radio on Master’s bedside clock so I ran in there and tuned in to the station. It turned out that the interview wasn’t very exciting, but I was just stunned by Master’s thoughtfulness. Anyone else would have thought, ‘Yeah, whatever’, but he actually called me….from a pay phone no less!

I hadn’t even reminded him that it was *my birthday + 12* (^v^)

Then I had a play around with WordPress and it seems to be better than lj so I’m thinking about moving. I’ll see if I can be bothered to transfer all the old blogs there or just leave them as they are and start posting new stuff over there – I see that lj makes it ‘so’ easy to transfer by only allowing you to export one month’s entries at a time and you lose comments and some of the formatting. I’ll post the new address here when things are decided.

So that was my day…exciting, huh? That’s why I have a general policy to only write slave angst in here…that and I only seem to get comments when I’m angsting…lol.

Little red riding slut

Saturday night was party night and my outfit for the evening was supposed to be “Little Red Riding Hood”. Silly me forgot my red hood, so I ended up simply being little red riding slut.

This pose is also known as the “Are you done taking photos yet?” pose:

The dagger eyes

Superspanker Ryan aka ‘The man with the hands of steel’ also paid some serious attention to my botty (this was after Master had already paid copious amounts of attention to my botty.)

Red cheeks

This was my ‘rest’ between beating sessions number two and three. I’ve always thought that the idea of the hogtie is really hot, but the reality is that it kills your neck!

Rest between beatings

After beatings with floggers, straps and assorted other things, the karri wood beating stick Master ‘conveniently’ found on our trip away last weekend made an appearance and then it was all polished off with some cane strokes.

At the end, my ass felt….hard! It was strange, almost like my ass had callouses on it. Master suggested that those hard places may have been where he’d placed piping hot party pies earlier on in the evening, but I really think that instead of being beaten to a pulp, I was beaten to a plank!

We came home about 2am, after once again being the last to arrive and the first to play. I have a habit after parties of saying to Master, “I wanted more!” or something as equally as dangerous, so this time he made sure I’d had enough. Today I’ve got a sore ass and sitting, peeing and everything else hurts. All I can say is that I’d better get some pretty bruises out of it!

Services in lieu

We had a visit from the watering system man this morning.  The controller wasn’t working and the pump wouldn’t turn off. He did the watering system man equivalent of ‘control+shift+delete’ ing by popping out the fuse with a screw driver and putting it back in again. Voila! Control is now working, but pump problem is the domain of an electrician to be fixed another day.

For his ‘sweat-inducing’ work of popping out the fuse and pushing it back in again, the watering system man charged us $70.

After I’d paid and he left $70 richer, I went into the house and told Master the ‘good’ news. His reply?

"Did you offer to suck his dick instead of paying him the cash?"

After hearing that remark, I decided that my mission to turn Master into a frugal man is finally complete. Over the last two and a half years I’ve slowly but surely introduced him to the wonderful world of coupons, fuel vouchers, price comparisons and minimal pantry stocking. I have to say that he has done very well (although sometimes he gets a bit shaky when there are less than 12 cans of tinned tomatoes in the pantry) and his thoughtful idea to exchange my dick-sucking services for Trevor’s screwdriver services was just icing on my frugal cake.

I then thought about all the money that we continually shell out to guys in order to have things done around the house – the lawnmower man, the pool/spa fixer man, the watering system man, the garage door man, the painter, the electrician, the internet man, the patio-erecting dudes, the washing machine fixer man, the dishwasher fixer man, the list is endless. And if we were to offer my services in lieu of labour costs, how frugal would that be!

Instead of parts + labour costs, it would be something like: one dishwasher replacement seal and one dick suck. One mowing of the lawn and one spanking session. One patio erection and three erections courtesy of Stevo, Davo and Johno that could find a place to call home in a frugal-minded slave girl’s holes.

I’m sure there have been many such ‘arrangements’ done in private at one time or another, but the internet sounds like a wonderful place to advertise the exchange of services:

Bitch with broken boiler seeks man with a blowtorch to blow.

Slut with septic system problems seeks man to clean her rear entrance.

Need a filling! Fill my hole…then fill my other holes.

Just a thought (^v^)

Services in lieu

We had a visit from the watering system man this morning.¬† The controller wasn’t working and the pump wouldn’t turn off. He did the watering system man equivalent of ‘control+shift+delete’ ing by popping out the fuse with a screw driver and putting it back in again. Voila! Control is now working, but pump problem is the domain of an electrician to be fixed another day.

For his ‘sweat-inducing’ work of popping out the fuse and pushing it back in again,¬†the watering system man¬†charged us $70.

After I’d paid and he left $70 richer, I went into the house and told Master the ‘good’ news. His reply?

“Did you offer to suck his dick instead of paying him the cash?”

After hearing that remark, I decided that my mission to turn Master into a frugal man is finally complete. Over the last two and a half years I’ve slowly but surely introduced¬†him to the¬†wonderful world of coupons, fuel vouchers, price comparisons and minimal pantry stocking. I have to say that he has done very well (although sometimes he gets a bit shaky when there are less than 12 cans of tinned tomatoes in the pantry) and his thoughtful idea to exchange my dick-sucking services for Trevor’s screwdriver services was just icing on my frugal cake.

I then thought about all the money that we continually shell out to guys in order to have things done around the house Рthe lawnmower man, the pool/spa fixer man, the watering system man, the garage door man, the painter, the electrician, the internet man, the patio-erecting dudes, the washing machine fixer man, the dishwasher fixer man, the list is endless. And if we were to offer my services in lieu of labour costs, how frugal would that be!

Instead of parts + labour costs, it would be something like: one dishwasher replacement seal and one dick suck. One mowing of the lawn and one spanking session. One patio erection and three erections courtesy of Stevo, Davo and Johno that could find a place to call home in a frugal-minded slave girl’s holes.

I’m sure there have been many such ‘arrangements’ done in private at one time or another, but the internet sounds like a wonderful place to advertise the exchange of services:

Bitch with broken boiler seeks man with a blowtorch to blow.

Slut with septic system problems seeks man to clean her rear entrance.

Need a filling! Fill my hole…then fill my other holes.

Just a thought (^v^)

Don’t you just hate it when…

1. You read through your previous journal entry – one that you re-read several times and spell-checked before posting- and find 1, 2 or even 3 spelling mistakes!!!!

2. You start a new job, which is much better than your old job, but it takes you two hours to get home.

3. You get to the bus stop early and the bus is late, but if you ever get to the bus stop late, the bus is always early.

4. You think you’re in the mood for a release and you check for porn updates from kink.com, but your internet connection is so slow that it takes 15mins to download one 30second clip

5. You notice that you’ve been filling in your release chart wrong and instead of having 15 releases left you’ve only got 5.

6. Having given up on downloading porn, you search for further entertainment in the form of James Spader, and when you’ve found an interview you’d like to watch, it turns out to only be available in streaming media and your crappy internet connection plays 3 seconds worth of clip and then buffers for 5mins…over and over again.

7. There have been no meaty updates on your favourite blogs!

8. You’re planning on going to a play party on the weekend and your domly one decides that your costume will be butt-nakedness.

9. You don’t have anything real to write about so you write amusing snippets about nothing in particular.

10. You realise it’s past your bedtime and it’s only 10pm!

Don’t you just hate it when…

1. You read through your previous journal entry –¬†one that you re-read several times and spell-checked before posting-¬†and find 1, 2 or even 3 spelling mistakes!!!!

2. You start a new job, which is much better than your old job, but it takes you two hours to get home.

3. You get to the bus stop early and the bus is late, but if you ever get to the bus stop late, the bus is always early.

4. You think you’re in the mood for a release and you check for porn updates from kink.com, but your internet connection is so slow that it takes 15mins to download¬†one 30second clip

5. You notice that you’ve been filling in your release chart wrong and instead of having 15 releases left you’ve only got 5.

6. Having given up on downloading porn, you search for further entertainment in the form of James Spader, and when you’ve found an interview you’d like to watch,¬†it turns out¬†to¬†only be available in streaming media and your crappy internet connection plays 3 seconds worth of clip and then buffers for 5mins…over and over again.

7. There have been no meaty updates on your favourite blogs!

8. You’re planning on going to a play party on the weekend and your domly one decides that your costume will be butt-nakedness.

9. You don’t have anything real to write about so you write amusing snippets about nothing in particular.

10. You realise it’s past your bedtime and it’s only 10pm!

I lost my ball!

I was lying in the bath last night, washing off the gym sweat and cleaning cunt, when I looked down and I noticed that my ball was missing!!!

GONE……MY POOR LITTLE BALL !!!!

I’m referring, of course, to one of the balls on my barbells, and I was assuming that all those kicks and punches at body combat had shaken it loose. I was imagining my poor little ball rolling around on the gym floor somewhere looking all lonesome.

When I had my rings switched, the girl had told me to make sure that I check that my balls were screwed in, and while I hadn’t been doing it ten times a day, I had been doing it every now and then. Each of the barbells had cost $50 so I wasn’t planning on losing a ball so early in the piece, but there it was…gone!

I told Master and he said I’d have to go into town and procure another one. I was thinking about what to do until then, take the barbell out in case it fell out, or leave it in and walk around v.e.r.y carefully. The thought of the barbell coming out and me having to put it back in totally freaked me out. Even after two years, the thought of holes down there is very freaky. I can barely change my earrings, let alone cut rings!

That was when I made a decision to scour the floor at home, just to check that it hadn’t fallen off when I’d changed clothes. I mean I was wearing underpants and leggings to the gym, where could it possibly fall out? I even checked the toilet bowl, being that I was in plague and peeing every ten minutes. I thought maybe the extra wiping had jiggled it loose.

And that was when I found it….all shiny and lonesome in the hallway. Thank god.

So I screwed it back on – which freaked me out – and then all was peaceful in the world.

I lost my ball!

I was lying in the bath last night, washing off the gym sweat and cleaning cunt, when I looked down and I noticed that my ball was missing!!!

GONE……MY POOR LITTLE BALL !!!!

I’m referring, of course, to one of the balls on my barbells, and I was assuming that all those kicks and punches at body combat had shaken it loose. I was imagining my poor little ball rolling around on the gym floor somewhere looking all lonesome.

When I had my rings switched, the girl had told me to make sure that I check that my balls were screwed in, and while I hadn’t been doing it ten times a day, I had been doing it every now and then. Each of the barbells had cost $50 so I wasn’t planning on losing a ball so early in the piece, but there it was…gone!

I told Master and he said I’d have to go into town and procure another one. I was thinking about what to do until then, take the barbell out in case it fell out, or leave it in and walk around v.e.r.y carefully. The thought of the barbell coming out and me having to put it back in totally freaked me out. Even after two years, the thought of holes down there is very freaky. I can barely change my earrings, let alone cut rings!

That was when I made a decision to scour the floor at home, just to check that it hadn’t fallen off when I’d changed clothes. I mean I was wearing underpants and leggings to the gym, where could it possibly fall out? I even checked the toilet bowl, being that I was in plague and peeing every ten minutes.¬†I thought maybe¬†the extra wiping had jiggled it loose.

And that was when I found it….all shiny and lonesome in the hallway. Thank god.

So I screwed it back on – which freaked me out – and then all was peaceful in the world.

You smell good

When¬†a new year begins people always want to shake things up – quit crappy jobs, get new jobs, start diet and exercise regimes and in the case of D/s relationships, lots of people make noises about going back to basics, to a ‘beat me, I’m your bitch’ regime.¬† These ‘BMB’¬†regimes are characterised by a general lack of concern for what the non-dominant member of the relationship wants and tend to involve ‘put up and shut up’ activities in which the domly one puts the non-domly one back into their place.

I would say that most D/s relationships start out on some level of BMB-ness. I distinctly remember being peed on and driven around town, filthy and naked on a leash in the beginning of my first relationship and then being ball-gagged and bound with my hands behind my back for an entire night in the first week of my second relationship. We all start out hard and fast, but then as the months go by you settle into a haze of some norti stuff every now and then, and instead a relationship starts to form with all its associated emotions and baggage, because that is naturally what happens when two people spend their lives together.

I think a lot of the problem is that we call it a D/s relationship, when actually all we want is the D/s. Its when the relationship forms that we start getting into trouble.

I’ve lost count of the number of subbies (myself included)¬†who say/whine/lament that as the time spent with their Master gets longer, their level of of BMB-ness gets lighter.

‘He doesn’t beat me anymore!’
‘He doesn’t give me orders or instructions anymore!’
‘He worries too much about what I want!’

Sound familiar??

All of these laments seem to suggest, not a lack of interest, but in fact too much interest on the part of the domly one regarding the welfare of the subbie one. I’ve even heard my fair share of excuses spring from the mouths of the domly ones when presented with these accusations:

“I thought you were too tired, because you’ve been working so hard.”
“I just thought we’d relax because we don’t get to spend a lot of time together.”
“You’re precious to me, I want to take good care of you.”

And while that’s all fine and dandy on the relationship side of things, what about the D/s¬†that I¬†signed up for????

One thing I said to myself when I got into this relationship was that I was damned if I was going to get another emotional attachment to¬†an owner. In my first¬†D/s experience, I was under the impression that he started caring for me and therefore could not dominate me anymore so on my second go,¬†I purposely chose a ‘hard-ass dom’ who scared me quite a bit, because I thought in that way I’d be able to have the D/s without the side of relationship. I¬†thought he wouldn’t go fuzzy-wuzzy on me – there would be no flowers or romantic poetry. It started out in many ways as a business transaction and I was hoping to keep it that way.

But then we fucked up and fell in love.

I remember the day he told me he loved me. He had this slightly mystical expression on his face and glistening eyes:

“I really do love you, you know.”

I also remember that I seriously did not want to admit the same thing to him. I almost had a Ghost moment and said, “Ditto”, but I couldn’t even go that far, so I said nothing. I just nodded. Unless you are truly a sadist,¬†the L word causes issues. You just don’t want to beat your bitch as hard or as much when the L word is involved. You worry about her health and her welfare, she becomes much more to you than property. Love leads to relationship and once the relationship starts, the D/s just gets fucked up and I didn’t want to go there.

But now I’m at a place where I feel less threatened by the thought of a relationship. I’m quite happy to have a little bit of norti stuff when the mood takes us, but otherwise to share¬†the time we have together in the haze. I said in a previous entry that I was concerned about my place here if I wasn’t his slave, but then I realised that I will always be his slave, by his definition. It doesn’t matter what or who¬†I¬†think I am, he will always think of me as his slave, regardless of the reality of the relationship that has evolved. I will be what he defines me as.

I still find it hard to utter those three little words that would leave me vulnerable and defenceless, but every now and then though I’m tempted to say to Master the three little words that the tortured Alan Shore was wont to say to the woman he deeply loved but to whom he could never admit it to:

You smell good.

Eyes wide open

Damn…seven days into the new year and I’ve already broken at least one of my resolutions. And I mean not one of my repeatedly broken resolutions, but one of my ‘attainable’ resolutions!!! WTF???

Instead of continuing to do the same crappy job that has sucked the life and soul out of me, I made an executive decision and quit.

Just like that.

I woke up on Tuesday morning with a pounding headache and my stomach was churning over and over. My body was literally rejecting the thought of having to go to work again. I’ve never had such a violently strong reaction to anything in my life, but over and over in my head the litany was, ‘I can’t do this…I just can’t do this anymore.’

I’ve dragged my heels to work at the crack of dawn for eight months and¬†thought many, many times that I didn’t think I could stand to spend another minute there, but Tuesday morning was different. Something inside just cracked and I knew I had to do something.

So I asked to speak to my boss privately. We went into a meeting room and he asked me what was wrong.

‘I’d like to resign.’

And his reaction???

‘Ok.’

WTF???? I was sort of expecting a little something more along the lines of, ‘Oh, no really?’ or ‘What’s the problem? Can we sort it out another way?’ or something with even just a sprinkling of surprise or perhaps regret. But no. I think his ‘Ok’ summed up that entire work¬†place where they just like to chew people up, suck all the¬†marrow of life out of them¬†and spit them out.

I said I’d leave on Wednesday being that it was the last day in the pay cycle (to the end I like to be frugal and tidy…lol!) and I casually asked whether I could use the 1 1/2 hrs of flex time they owed me¬†(where I’d stayed back without pay) and leave early.

Their reaction???

‘No.’

Yep….that’s what they said.

Then at the close of business they reclaimed my security passes, wiped me from the computer system and ESCORTED me from the building.

Yep….that’s what they did.

So, for eight months, I’d spent 1 1/2 hrs getting to work and¬†1 1/2 hrs getting home again, was only late ONCE because the bus didn’t show up and I had to find alternative arrangements to get to work, done my work above and beyond the call of duty, worked back without complaining, taken my tea and meal breaks to within¬†ten seconds¬†of the scheduled times, was pleasant, courteous and rule-abiding at all times…and that’s what I got for my efforts.

Yep….

But it’s all good.¬†I went to gym this morning, sent off a couple of job applications and rung up my piercer to make an appointment to have my labia rings removed (Master has finally given the nod!! Yay!!)

2009 is going to be a better year.

Twilight

Twilight is a time of the day that I absolutely love. Why? It’s so calming, so quiet and unlike other times of the day, there’s nothing in particular that you have to do. It’s not dinner time, it’s not clean the house time or get ready for work time, it’s time just to ‘be’.

This is generally the time of the day when I feel really…

HORNY!

The other twilight I went and draped myself over my domly one who was lounging in the lounge room and made my feelings known:

‘Wanna tie me up and beat me?’He obliged by tying my legs to the top of the bedhead and cuffing my hands above my head. There was some administering of crop, cane and paddle and some ravishing to wrap it all up.

 

If only twilight came more than once a day….

In a more sobering line of thought,¬†¬†I think I’m also experiencing another type of twilight – a¬†time ‘between’ what was and what will be.

I’ve mentioned before that the ‘fire’ of my slavery has cooled somewhat, mostly through experience and also due to learning the harsh realities of life. I’m not quite the same person who would have once done anything at the snap of some domly fingers and I’m much more aware of the need to take my happiness into my own hands. Simply being owned as property is not enough to fulfill me on all levels. It’s a part of my life, but not the under-pinning foundation of everything. Like an itch, if I focus on other things enough, I can wipe¬†slavery completely out of my mind.

Having a browse through Fetlife and profiles of my friends I came across some words in the profile of a dear friend carinastarr

“I have grown out of my slave heart.”

I¬†think I actually heard a gong sound in my head as I read it. I’ve often felt that I’m in a different emotional place than where I was before, and her words perfectly summed up my feelings.

I’m a big believer in the fact that we are constantly growing and evolving and I suppose slavery is something that can be as easily grown out of as a pair of shoes that no longer fit. More often than I’d like, I feel my slavery chafe because it’s not the perfect fit that it once was, but I don’t know how to make it fit, and in fact, I don’t know¬†if I even want it to fit.

The dilemma is compounded by the fact that I’ve had many conversations with Master about what I am to him. All of them have revolved around the following central statement:

“I don’t want a girlfriend, a housekeeper or a wife. I want a slave.That’s what you are to me and all you can ever be.”

He seems so sure as to what he wants and it worries me that I would have no place with him if I wasn’t his slave. Of course, I have some doubts as to his definition of a slave and his feelings of mutual exclusivity. In my experience I’ve been a girlfriend, housekeeper and wife to him, in all but name, all the while still being his ‘slave’.

So here I am in the twilight of my slavery, pondering whether I want to race back into the blazing light of day or go forward into the quiet chill of night.

It’s so hard to make these decisions when you’ve got no sense of direction.

Beginnings

Ho hum…it’s the obligatory blog post heralding the start of a new year, new resolutions and full of excitement at the ‘beginning’ of something………………………

Or is it?

I’ve actually been chewing on this topic for a while and now that I’ve gorged myself on WoW and festive fare to a point where I’ve got RSI in my wrist and I look like I’ve got a five-month-old bun in my oven, it’s time to spit out the cud.

My pondering was all started by a collaring ceremony I read about that took place a few weeks back. I saw the pics, read the accounts and and saw the ‘official’ changing of the relationship status in that register of all registers, Fetlife. All the while I couldn’t help wondering what had changed. What had altered these people from what they were before? A few words spoken, a signature on a meaningless piece of paper, a ritualistic exchange of some ‘meaningful’ object? Once done, did these things magically start them down a new path?

I remember spending months of time on planning and considerable amounts of money on a marriage ceremony that changed nothing about the way I felt. I remember exchanging rings that I designed and vows that I wrote that left me strangely feeling nothing.I remember writing a heart-felt slave contract, signing it and having my sister sign it but then walking out the door 12mths later. None of these ceremonial things made a sliver of difference when push came to shove and hard decisions needed to be made.

I’ve thought on occasion that I’d like to have a collaring ceremony with Master. Part of me, I guess, was hoping that I could use it as a ‘new beginning’ to a life where I’d be a ‘good slave’ and he’d be the ‘perfect Master’. But, we all know that a few words and some ritualistic gestures ain’t going to change anyone or anything. It’s unrealistic to snap your fingers and expect something to change.

‘Starting today, I’ll be a good slave!’

Which is in a similarly unbelievable category as:

‘An unwrapped Mars bar up the cunt sounds like a great idea!’

I find it interesting that we always have to have a starting point for everything, as though there is some invisible line, where all that has gone before ceases to exist and everything that comes after is fresh, new and pristine. I find it interesting because people are constantly ‘reinventing’ themselves, when intrinsically nothing has changed and nothing will change. There may be a few cosmetic changes that can be worked for a short time, but ultimately people will revert to what they were before.

Similarly every new year is greeted with a swathe of people drawing invisible lines in the sand and saying, ‘From today I will/won’t do X, Y, Z’ . My personal favourite and often repeated resolutions are:

1. Lose 20kgs
2. Be a more obedient and attentive slave
3. Get a fulfilling job
4. Clean regularly and thoroughly
5. Spend less time surfing the net/playing Wow/playing Xbox/playing PS2

I make the same resolutions every year and every year I fail miserably. So this year I’ve decided to make my resolutions attainable and thoroughly realistic!

In 2009 I resolve to:

1. Lose 5kg, put on 5kgs, lose another 2kgs and put on 8kgs
2. Be the same sassy smart-ass, excuse of a slave that I always am
3. Do the same crap job that I hate and that continues to suck the life and soul out of me
4. Clean only when someone is coming over
5. Spend all available hours avoiding doing meaningful things, and lose whole afternoons and evenings killing things and farming gold

For the first time in years, I feel like this is a new beginning!