Better late than never

It’s four months overdue, but meh….I’ve finally done Part 1 of our Japan trip taken earlier this year.

I apologise if you’ve already read M’s triplog, but I figure it’s been several months and you’ve probably already forgotten it, so here it is again! Lol.

I’m guessing it will take four or five parts to get through it all as we packed a lot into our two weeks – well, I packed a lot into our two weeks and into our suitcases on the way home. I’ll try and keep the parts coming.

Enjoy.

Blah

I’ve had a busy week. There were some dramas at work so I ended up working straight through without my usual days off and I’m feeling it. The house is also feeling it because it looks like a brothel. Not that there are any scantily clad women lounging around the place, just that there isn’t a clean plate in the cupboard and there are three loads of washing to be done.

But I have the day off today, so I’m catching up on the housework, the blog-reading, the tax filing, the studying and the fire-stoking. It’s still cold and quite frankly, I’m over it. I’m ready for non-ugg-boot weather and temperatures in the double-digits. Things don’t really start being warm here until October though, so it’s still a long way off.

I actually got that cold today that I moved my desk in front of the fire:

Mmm..toasty

Today I start Week 5 of the c25k programme which means I’m half-way through. It’s actually been quite painless – except for the frequent wedgies I somehow seem to get and the embarrassment I feel at exactly how unfit I am. I discovered the need for decent socks last week so off I went to the bogan mecca, a.k.a. Target (pronounced Tar-jay for that extra touch of elegance) yesterday and bought 4 different types of socks. Funnily enough I had to buy kids socks because for adults, they don’t make anything longer than a quarter crew. My quarter crew normally turns into a no-crew because my shoes end up eating my socks, so even though long sports socks are not that attractive, I’m happy to sacrifice fashion for comfort.

I also bit the bullet and bought a decent sports bra. I’m not actually that well-enough endowed to normally need a bra, but I do wear a crop-top-bra-thing when running to minimise bounce. I figure anything that may help the relentless journey south of my fun bags is a good investment so I paid $25 and came home with a wire-free, high-impact, bounce-reducer thing that hopefully will do its job.

I almost came home with yet another pair of boots yesterday too, but I restrained myself. If they’d been stiletto heels instead of the thicker heels they were, I would have had to purchase them. I tried them on, pictured M’s disappointment in yet another pair of ‘nice day boots’ entering the house and decided to save the $45 instead. I also wasn’t that keen on the name of the boots, “Cougar”. Yeah, I’m no longer in my twenties, but I wouldn’t quite class myself in cougar territory yet.

I’d also like to report that I am officially addicted to popcorn made in my fabulous new popcorn maker. Seriously, I don’t know how I lived the past 33 years of my life without one. Unfortunately, it’s just a little bit too convenient and I’ve been stuffing my face with bowls of the stuff. It’s addictive.

Mmm..popcorn

M is still looking around for a better-paid job that would be a bit more intellectually stimulating and some murmurs of possible jobs in another (warmer!) state have come up. He was talking about what he’d do if he got one of the jobs- rent out the house here and rent an apartment in the city there and he said I could either go with him, go back to my family, or whatever.

And I was like, wtf?

And he said that because I wasn’t wearing his collar, I’d made no commitment and therefore he wasn’t making any assumptions.

And I was like, wtf?

He is an interesting soul. I think since the de-collaring incident he has been in ‘withdrawal mode’, meaning he doesn’t want to invest too much emotions-wise in case I bail out. I can’t blame him, I suppose. I’d probably do the same thing myself – withdraw a bit so I didn’t get hurt too badly if things did go pear-shaped. For all his talk of him considering me as ‘his slave’ and that ‘nothing has changed’, it obviously has somewhere inside him. On the surface, we’re still the same ‘couple’, but scratch that veneer and there’s obviously something different underneath.

It just kind of hit me though that he would think that I wouldn’t go with him. It was a reality check that slapped me across the face and then stuck its fingers up my nose for fun.

Honestly, hearing his, ‘you do whatever you want’ comment made me feel a little bit like when I was going to leave the one-who-shall-not-be-named and he said, ‘You don’t have to go.’

And I was like, ‘WTF does that mean? Do you want me? Do you not want me? Say what you mean,man!’

Non-committal statements.

You’ve just got to love them.

Departures

I’d been wanting to see this movie for a quite while. Remember that Japanese movie that everyone was talking about at the academy awards? And that one that won the award for the best foreign film? That’s the one I’m talking about.

I had my reservations about sitting through yet another woefully acted, ridiculously scripted Japanese movie but I was guessing that several snotty film critics couldn’t all be wrong so when it was on tv on Sunday night, I asked M if I could watch it.

He rolled his eyes a bit and ended up disappearing off to his iMac when the movie started, returning to watch most of the movie and sigh loudly every couple of minutes as if to say, ‘Isn’t it fucking over yet?’ as it got near the end of its two hour running time. Don’t you hate it when they do that? But, at least I got to watch it, I guess.

Anyway, I have to say it was good. Really good. Like, I could watch it several times again good (although I say that quietly while Mr Sighs-a-lot is in the room…)

In fact, I had a few good cries during it. Probably because I’m a sucker for anything that involves death, but also because I get all ‘proud teary’ when I see Japan presented in a real light. I wouldn’t exactly call it patriotism, because with me being Australian and all that would be weird, but it’s a strange feeling that I can’t explain with any other words.

I really get a strong sense of pride or happiness when people understand things about Japan and sometimes just an article in a magazine or a tv programme that has a title like ‘Hidden Japan’ (or permutations thereof) is enough to start the waterworks flowing.

That’s weird, right?

I’m not sure what Mr Sigh-a-lot thought about it. Actually, I’m a bit scared to ask because I don’t want him to bag it. I had hoped he would have found it fascinating in terms of all the funeral rituals and ideas about death, but the frequency of his sighs lead me to believe that he found it less than interesting.

Departures is a very maudlin and at times confronting movie, but it is very restrained in terms of your typical Japanese movie – there’s only one stupid, over-acting guy and hardly any what-the-hell-is-this-scene-supposed-to-mean? moments. If you’ve hated just about every other non-anime Japanese movie you’ve ever seen like I have, give this one a try.

Trust me.

Notes to self a.k.a. TMI? never heard of it…

  • Always remember to rinse the bathtub out after removing amazonian-like pubic hair with Nair – the next day it will be even scarier

  • Don’t start a new week of running by running up a hill – no matter how much of a gentle slope it appears to be

 

  • One helping of curry is sufficient – don’t go back for more regardless of your feelings towards getting your ‘money’s worth’ at a buffet

 

  • Heating a room to 27 degrees in winter is over-kill – the sweat running down your back should be an immediate indicator

 

  • When the man says he needs nakedness and boots for ‘medical reasons’ remind him that the doctor made a mistake ordering a post-vasectomy sperm count test and there is no longer any need to fill the sample jar

 

  • Scratching your newly-emerging and very prickly pubes while jogging along walking paths with lots of people on them is never a good idea – it hurts them more than it hurts you

Should I be worried?

I had a text message from my sister with the following photo of my niece’s doll attached and the question, “Should I be worried?”

I said, “Just as long as she’s safe, sane and consensual, everything will be fine. Oh, and make sure she’s got some safety scissors for a quick release.”

*beams at giving sage advice*

I was probably the same age when I started tying myself up and building lego prisons. I wonder if it’s genetic?

A Day in the Life of kitten Part 3

After work, I normally walk to the station:

Thay have such inventive station names...

Admiring some pelicans on the way:

And take the train to the city, then catch a bus home:

Except usually it's an old smelly bus without air-con not this nice bus

But this day, I decided to go shopping after work as it was late-night shopping Thursday when the shops stay open until 9pm.

So I caught a bus to the city:

I always get embarrassed to 'hail' a bus so I like other people to do it

Admired the handiwork of destructive teenagers:

Scratching windows is the graffiti of choice in Perth

Then changed buses:

I'm trying to figure out whether I think the new coke ad slogan is stupid or not

And went through the city:

It's not all this pretty

To get to the shopping centre:

Where I purchased my popcorn maker for $16 and dutch pancake maker a.k.a an octopus ball maker for $22:

Then M picked me up and we drove home together in the 5:45pm traffic:

My first task when I get home is to make the man coffee:

Extra milky with the milk poured in before the hot water

Then bring in wood from the garage:

I've whittled our 3t woodpile down by half...

And light the fire:

I'm still a bit scared by matches, but I love the smell

For dinner this night I had roast chicken and veggies:

A little bit of Japanese mayo makes everything yummy

After that I usually spend the rest of the night being his fetch and carry bitch, tending the fire, watching tv and doing some more Japanese study before going to bed about 9:30pm or so.

Three times a week I also do my training for the city to surf after I get home, so I go for another 6km jog/walk before dinner.

And that was my day…rivetting stuff, hey?

A Day in the Life of kitten Part 2

After my enforced exercise pleasant walk to work, I arrive at my office and this is where the excitement of my day really ramps up a notch or two (*insert appropriate sarcastic tone*):

Which used to be a hospital and is apparently haunted

Turn on my computer:

Yes, my desk is actually this clean

Make myself a cup of green tea in my beyond-stained cup:

Yes, my cup is actually this dirty

And think about ways to amuse myself – which sometimes means opening the cleaning cupboard:

And marvelling at how anal people can be about plastic bags:

Plastic bag origami

Then I send a billion emails, make pretty invoices, answer the occasional phonecall and before I know it, it’s lunch time:

Which I eat sitting at my desk because I have no official 'lunch time'

After lunch I poke my head outside:

Pity the office has no outward-facing windows...

And take out the recycling:

Have I mentioned how rewarding my work is?? Lol...

Then I send another bazillion emails, make some pretty spreadsheets and do some Japanese study if I’m alone:

I feel like I'm back in high school

In between all of this, I’ll make several trips to the toilet thanks to the numerous cups of tea I’ve had during the day:

Reading material is a necessity

And while on the toilet I enjoy checking out local real estate:

Penthouse apartment for $2.15 million anyone?

Then it’s time to go home!

to be continued…

It all started with dick

There I was this morning, walking along the river to my office in the early hours of post-dawn chill when I came face to face with dick – or is that dick to face?

I just love a bit of random nudity from strangers in the morning, don’t you?

Halfway along the bike path I normally walk on there is a branch that takes you on a more scenic route away from the freeway and closer to the river. I always take the longer path on the branch because I’m a masochist I always have time to kill and near the end of it there is a boat launching space and carpark.

There this morning were two gentlemen butt-naked attempting to get changed into wetsuits. And one of them was mighty hairy, I must say.

All the bike riders zoom along the shorter path and there’s never anyone on the scenic route. I guess that’s why the guys thought it would be ‘safe’ to get back to nature there. But I had to laugh because the hairy guy had an already changed friend waiting for him in the car and as I appeared from behind the bushes he felt the need to toot his horn so all my attention would be focussed on Mr. Hairy as he stumbled around with feet trapped in his wetsuit and nowhere to hide.

What is it they say about friends fucking you over?

So it’s my second-last day of chilling in the office alone. It’s been nice and I’ve quite enjoyed not having to make conversation. These last few days I brought my camera with me to work and have snapped a few pics of my day to share.

(I was very tempted to snap a picture of Mr Hairy too, but I restrained myself. I wouldn’t actually want to inflict that sort of cruel and unusual punishment on anyone.)

A Day in the Life of kitten Part 1

I start my day very glamourously at 6am with a heater and ugg slippers:

Then I get dressed in appropriate bogan wear when alone in office:

Also known as comfy walking clothes...

Then I chow down on porridge and have a caffeine hit in front of the iMac:

Yes, my screensaver is melon bread

M and I leave the house at 7am and hit the freeway heading towards the city:

School holiday traffic - the only time Perthites can merge

We pass through the city and head south over a couple of rivers and bridges:

M drops me off and continues onto his office and I start walking back the 6kms to my office:

It was 2 degrees this particular morning

I walk back along the river and under the bridge I crossed in the car 10 minutes earlier:

 Then I walk over the bridge:

And admire the view of a lone kayaker:

Then I walk to another bridge and cross over it and walk under it:

I was a little disturbed when I first discovered this was wooden and supports six lanes of traffic on a busy highway

Then I admire the firetree in bloom:

And the pair of sleeping black swans in the aptly named Swan River:

Then I loop around the yacht club and head back to my office:

Sometimes I walk up the other side of the river and look at the old and new houses:

1960's house and 2010 Mc Mansion

And I laugh at the houses of the rich and tasteless:

My winner of the I-have-money-but-no-taste award

A block of land in this area will set you back a cool couple of million dollars without a house on it so there is some serious money here. Apparently having oodles of money also allows you to have a fantastic mailbox:

Frill-necked lizard mailbox

to be continued…

Daddy in dom’s clothing

I had a thought last night while making dinner for M. I’d spent the day doing his washing, changing his sheets, running the dishwasher and sweeping up his little trail of peanut shells on the floor. I did a lot of things that day for myself as well like going for my run and getting rained on, doing some study and stoking the fire until it was a balmy 26 degrees in the house, so I didn’t spend the day entirely doing stuff for him, but it was while I was making his cauliflower cheese that the thought struck me,

Does he want a slave or a mommy and do I want a dom or daddy?

It was a thought that initially just flashed across my mind, but I haven’t been able to shake it – just like the scary 2002 Culture Club reunion concert that I accidentally came across on tv. Let me just say, Boy George could get away with it in 1985, but now in 2010, he’s just a frumpy gay man with questionable taste in fashion.

Anyway, let me explain. I think for a lot of guys, they just want someone to cook, sew and clean up after them and for a lot of women, they just want  a man who protects, provides and kills spiders for them in the middle of the night. Huge over-generalizations, I know, but I really do think that’s that what relationships boil down to in a lot of cases.

Ignoring the kink, what do people really want out of an M/s relationship? Put in the simplest terms, a master wants someone to look after them and give them what they want and a slave wants someone to look after them and give them what they want. Their definitions of being ‘looked after’ will tend to differ as will their definitions of giving them ‘what they want’. In most cases though, the slave will look after the master like a mother – by cooking, cleaning and fetching – while the master will look after the slave like a father – by protecting, providing and making decisions.

I have a sneaking feeling that we just use the words ‘slave’ and ‘dom’ to get around the social stigma of ‘mommy’ and ‘daddy’ because saying you want a ‘slave’ or ‘dom’ is cool, while saying you want your ‘mother’ or ‘father’ is not. I also wonder whether all this talk about having ‘no right or choices’ is a way to get someone who will perform all the duties of , but not have the power of a mother and wanting someone who will ‘take charge’ but who will also ‘nurture & protect’ is just a daddy in dom’s clothing. All this talk about alternative lifestyles and roles & whatnot, but the essence of what we want in the other person is what we had or wanted to have when we were children.

How many men just want their shirts ironed, a kiss at the door in the morning and a hot dinner on the table after a long day at work?  And how much easier is it to get that when you’ve got a slave?

Similarly, how many women don’t want the responsibility of making decisions or being the breadwinner and are happy to look after the house? And how much easier is it to get that when you’ve got a dom?

In this day and age, it’s difficult and almost embarrassing to say that you want a man who provides for you and makes the decisions, but it’s acceptable to say you want a ‘dom’ who generally does those things. Is all this talk of slaves and masters, just a smokescreen for the age-old and now taboo, ‘traditional’ style of relationship  in which the woman is a mommy and the man is a daddy.

I’m not bitching about having to do housework, in fact, I think it’s fair for me to do it – not because I’m the ‘slave’, but because I only work part-time, I’m home more than M is and he is the primary bread-winner. I’m also not bitching about having to get up before dawn on my days off, just to put his socks on and kiss him as he walks out the door, because I’m grateful that he goes to work and earns enough money so I can stay home. I figure it’s the least I can do and that maybe it softens the resentment he must feel towards me having to go to work in the cold while I stay at home in the warm.

I do have to say however, that it is a lot easier to justify those pre-dawn chilly mornings in my head if I think that I’m doing it because, ‘I’m the slave’.

It’s a very easy justifier – the “slave” thing. It also seems a lot more politically correct these days to say, ‘Because you’re the slave’ instead of, ‘Because you’re the woman’. Every question that leaves my lips beginning with, ‘Why…?’ can be answered with that oh-so-handy phrase, ‘Because you’re the slave’.

It’s the ultimate convenience in the convenience world we live in.

Dreams

M has been saying that he’s having very vivid dreams ever since we moved my cage into his bedroom during the vanilla clean-up of the house due to my boss coming around for lunch.

It’s been one of his fantasies since he was young ‘un. He told me how he’d fantasize about having a girl tied up under his bed and I guess that has stayed with him throughout the years.

He is still enamoured with the idea of chaining me to the bottom of his bed just so I’m within ‘arms reach’ a.k.a cock sucking range. I’ve done the sleeping on the floor chained to the bottom of the bed thing in the past and I have to say two things about it:

1) It’s uncomfortable

2) It’s very uncomfortable

(This is the point where you should remind yourself that I’m a spoiled princess who has her own bed and bedroom and has never been very slave-like.)

I’ve also done the sleeping over night in the cage thing and I have two things to say about that too:

1) It sucked

2) It sucked in a bad way

(This is the point where you should just skip down to the new quirky Japan post link if you’re sick of reading about me whining because there is much more yet to come.)

Actually the being kept chained somewhere thing has been one of my fantasies as well. I used to read a blog (that no longer exists) written by a lady who spent some time as a call girl working for her owners. There was a time when she refused to go with a particular client because he gave her the creeps and so she was caged for about a week, being let out for toilet breaks, exercise and periodic beatings. It was a hot story and one I wished I’d kept a copy of before it disappeared from the innernets forever.

It’s the old fantasy-is-hotter-than-reality thing though and I reminded M that while I’m caged or chained up somewhere he has make his own coffee, get his own remote control and look after the fire. I think the thought of him actually having to do stuff took a little bit of the shine off his fantasy.

Anyway, I got productive this morning and churned out another quirky Japan post here and this afternoon I’m off to buy gadgets – specifically a popcorn-maker that I’ve been lusting after for several months and quite possibly one of those Dutch pancake-maker thingies that I’m going to try and use to make octopus balls.

Nothing is going to come between me and my balls.

I’m tired…

I got a little bit carried away today:

16.3kms 21,762 steps

I think I’ll go to bed now, kthxbai!

Oh, before I go, I made Japanese chicken curry for dinner and ate it with my 16 grains and cereals rice. It was scrummy (and a lot nicer than our Japanese last night.)

You're imagining the hair in it...

Tainted

One of the perks (I guess you could call it that) of my job is that there are only two people in the office – with one of them being me. This means that when the other person – also known as my boss – is away, it’s just me, myself and I in the office.

So for the next two weeks it’s just me, myself and I in the office while my boss goes gallivanting around overseas. This means that I get to come to work in comfy clothes and sneakers and I also get to amuse myself in really obvious ways without having to look like I’m doing something.

Yay.

And while I won’t be announcing any parties at my office on Facebook for the masses to attend, I’ll be chilling out in between little spurts of work.

M and I are taking one of his visiting relatives out to dinner tonight. We’ve decided to try one of the few Japanese restaurants that we haven’t been to in town. The only problem is I’ve totally spoiled M by taking him to ridiculously cheap and yummy restaurants in Japan so his enjoyment of any restaurant here is halved before we even get to look at the menu and start screaming about being charged $7 for 3 takoyaki (octopus balls – no, not what you’re thinking, but balls with pieces of octopus in them).

It’s his cousin who is over for work and apparently she ‘loves’ Japan and wants to hear all about it. All I can say is, “Join the queue, babe!” because every man and his dog these days wants to know about Japan.

I find it quite funny because I went to Japan before it was ‘cool’ – before anime & Miyazaki movies became popular and even before the internet. Well, I might be exaggerating that last bit a little, but I was into my second year in Japan when I heard about a new thing called ‘hotmail’ and immediately signed up for an account. I was actually one of the first few people who got their real name as their email address and a four letter password.

Now that really makes me feel ancient…

Actually the reason I got into Japan in the first place was very simple. It was the beginning of the 90’s, interest rates in Australia were 18%, unemployment rates were in double digits and everyone was convinced that Australia would soon be owned and run by the Japanese.

“Study Japanese!!!” was the spiel of every high school career counsellor and so I did. (I also happened to fail miserably at French and German, but Japanese somehow clicked with me so it was an easy choice.)

Funnily enough, I didn’t actually start to love Japan until I left. I guess when you’re there, all the cool stuff just becomes a ‘part of life’ and generally speaking, you’re too busy to really enjoy it anyway.

The bad thing about living in another country is that your view of life really opens up. You see the good and the bad in your home country as well as wherever you’re living and the comparisons can drive you crazy. If you had never lived anywhere else, you’d be none the wiser about how ‘good’ things can be (and also how ‘bad’ things can be) and you’d just accept what you had, knowing no different. Once you’ve learned that there are other things and other ways, it’s hard to accept something inferior. It would be great if you could just take the good things from each country and set up your own little Utopia somewhere…

I think kink is a little like living in a different country. Your world is opened up to a wide range of new possibilities and experiences and once you’ve sampled the delights, it’s difficult to go back to something ‘less’.

I think a lot about going back to ‘vanilladom’ and pushing all that kink stuff aside, but honestly, I don’t think I could. I’ve seen the dark side and that experience has tainted me forever. Once it’s with you, it’s with you for life and I don’t think I could just sweep it all under the carpet and carry on like nothing ever happened.

I know I can’t just close the door on Japan and go back to just being an ‘aussie’ because it was such a big chunk of my life and has had such broad-reaching influences on my thinking. So even though I must sound like a broken record to everyone who knows me, I’ll keep starting every second sentence with, “In Japan…” because that’s who I am.

As for that other question, you know, the ‘what am I?’ one…well…I’ll get back to you when and if I have an answer.

Thinking aloud

That’s pretty much what I use my blog for –  thinking ‘aloud’. I find it useful to get the thoughts that are buzzing around my brain out of my head and into something else. If I didn’t get the thoughts out every so often, I’m pretty sure that something would break inside me.

I just wanted to say that because I was reading back through my blog and it seems very disjointed. It kind of rubs me up the wrong way that it’s not one long cohesive narrative, but it’s the best I can do when I need to spew verbatim before it shoots out my nose.

(sorry for that vivid image…)

So yesterday’s post was a good example of that. It was just something that I needed to say.

Actually I did tell M the other day that the slavery thing wasn’t working for me. His reaction was of course that it was ‘too late’ for me, I’d made my choice to be a slave and whether it ‘worked for me or not’ that’s what I was. That sounds disturbing like a marriage vow, doesn’t it? For better or for worse and all that crap. Except, I guess with marriage you can always get a divorce.

But what can you do in the case of slavery?

I guess that’s where Mastercide (or is it Ownercide?) comes into it 😉

Not much to report here. M had to make his own fruit scones because I was busy raiding on WoW and I gave him a haircut that made him look like Hitler.

Actually when he looked at my handiwork in the mirror he did his very best Hitler rant and it was disturbingly similar to this – except, of course,  without subtitles. I think he has been watching too many of those amusing Hitler videos on youtube.

I didn’t give him a Hitler haircut on purpose, though. As I pointed out to him mid-rant, it’s difficult to cut someone’s hair when you can’t see them front-on. He said that he offered to sit away from his computer – which was true. But I wanted him to amuse himself on his computer because I like to take things slowly and without amusement, his normally short fuse becomes even shorter and I’m not a big fan of being yelled at any time. But after the Hitler rant, I’ve decided it’s better to be able to see him front-on and perhaps he can amuse himself with looking at my boots or something (*makes mental note to always wear boots when cutting hair*)

I also finished week one of the c25k programme on Friday and with the enthusiasm of a total n00b, I’m going to say that I’m actually looking forward to starting week 2. Yes people, put on your ice skates because hell has officially frozen over – I’m looking forward to running.

I was actually thinking about starting week 2 today, but I’m not sure whether monsoon-like rain and 125km winds are conducive to running. We are supposed to be going to a friend’s house today but M has spent most of the morning on the toilet so I’m not sure whether we will be leaving the house.

It’s just not doing it for me

Slavery.

It’s just not doing it for me.

I try…but it gets me nowhere.

These past few weeks, I’ve been trying Experiment in Slavery #587 and to be honest, I still suck at being a slave and I still feel like it’s a whole heap of hooey.

No matter what I do, I’m just not that same submissively-inclined person I was before. I don’t even think I have that ability to get into slave head space anymore. I feel so far removed from it all that I find me trying to be a slave almost comical.

And then I was thinking about it (in the bath, not the bus this time) and I had another epiphany of monumental proportions.

We have needs and we seek ways to have our needs fulfilled.

Then the needs are gone.

If I’m hungry and need food, I eat something and the need is gone.

So by that logic, doesn’t it mean that it would be rather peculiar for me to have an eternal need for food even though I was getting sustenance?

I don’t think needs are self-perpetuating. I think they are meant to appear, be met and then disappear.

I had a need to be a slave, it was met and now it has disappeared.

C’est la vie?

This ain’t Disneyland, Toto

I like to look in my spam box every now and then and this is what I found most recently:

Apparently my post about having an itchy twat had a pingback from people enquiring about amusement parks close to Disneyland and raspberry tea and my cervix have something in common.

Can anyone explain the connection to me?

*crickets*

I didn’t think so.

It’s a cold, wet, miserable day here and I’m thinking that I won’t be venturing outside to run. Actually, I’m thinking I won’t be moving more than three metres from the wood fire to do anything. Good thing my iMac is now located two metres from the fire allowing me to bring you this post from the letters ‘s’ for, ‘my blog stats are depressingly low because I’ve not been posting’ and ‘a’ for, ‘no angst means very few comments on my blog’…lol…true story.

Anyway, I’ve done a quirky Japan post here.

Go forth and read quirky people of the world.

Clean? living?

I was in the mood for something ‘earthy’ for dinner and a quick rummage through the pantry revealed my yet to be tried ‘jyurokkoku gohan’ sachets that you simply add to the pot when you’re cooking your regular rice. Jyurokkoku literally means ‘sixteen grains & cereals’ and just for the insatiable curious folk, the sixteen grains & cereals are: germinated brown rice, black rice, red rice, black beans, azuki beans, oats, black sesame, white sesame, quinoa, corn, amaranth, common millet, foxtail millet, Japanese millet, sorghum & Job’s tears.

Who knew there were so many different types of millet...

I decided to continue the earthy theme with seasoned burdock root, simmered black seaweed with chickpeas, fish & soya bean patties and spinach miso soup.

It was all seriously earthy in lots of ridiculously yummy ways.

Continuing with my health-kick I also started the c25k programme yesterday. If you haven’t heard of it, it’s a programme designed to get people who aren’t runners, running! Over nine weeks of interval sessions (20-30min three times a week) it takes you from the couch to 5km. I downloaded the funky free podrunner interval podcasts and I’ll be doing day 2 of week 1 tomorrow.

Yeah, feel the burn, baby.

The luncheon on Sunday went well. Except after spending stoopid amounts of time cleaning things that no-one ever looks at, I had a total mortification moment when my boss followed me into our legendary Room of Crap™ . I went to get him the spare tv that we don’t use anymore and specifically told him to wait in the kitchen while I went to get it, but what does the guy do? Follow me into the fucking Room of Crap™.

The reason the room is so legendary is because every square centimetre of the room is covered with crap. It actually looks like one of those places out of the tv show Hoarders. And yes, it really is that scary.

Up until about an hour ago I also had my collar on. It went back on my neck on Sunday night after everyone had left and was supposed to come off last night, but because I had innocently asked whether it was coming off or not, it stayed on for another night. Apparently asking and whining are similar concepts in Master’s mind. I actually asked him what the difference was and he said, and I quote:

Anything that reduces my pleasure is whining.

(And if they ain’t words of wisdom from a domly one’s mouth, I don’t know what are.)

It seems like he’s on some sort of mission to somehow ‘reduce’ me into pliability. As soon as I question something or show even a hint of non-compliance, ‘lessons’ for learning seem to peer their ugly heads over the horizon. It’s an interesting method and one with endless opportunities for mind-fucks.

The first mind–fuck was not long after the collar was removed when suddenly out of nowhere he demanded, ‘Go fetch the collar bitch!‘ I, of course, assumed he wanted me to fetch it because he wanted to put it back on and so I put up a fight – an opinionated fight in which I started to vocalise my issues with the collar and why it was still ‘too early’ for it to go back on.

Of course, M wasn’t intending to put it back on then. He just wanted a demonstration of blind obedience to put me in my place.

And so the place-putting has been continuing at various degrees: ask about something and it stays on longer, don’t do something and you end up doing it anyway.

It’s all very interestink.

Clean living

I spent a large part of my day cleaning an exhaust fan cover with a toothpick. Yes, my dear readers that can mean only one thing….I’m expecting guests.

And after angsting about it for a week and coming to two different decisions on two different days, I finally made the decision to add my boss to the list of invitees to the bbq. This will mean that the house will have to be vanilla-ized between now and Sunday lunchtime.

So the KY gel on the hallway table, the cage in the living room, the buttplugs and dildo in the bathroom and the St. Andrews cross that is the focal feature of the garden will all need to be suitably hidden. Yeah, the sacrifices one must make for guests.

But actually I’m looking forward to having people over – which is a rarity for me. I’m hoping that talking to different people will help me get out of the funk and will give me something else to put my mind on

In other clean news, I’d like to announce that I’ve been clean for five straight days. Five days that featured no bingeing* , wearing different clothes to work and attempting to be more positive about life in general. I’ve even got myself a calendar and a big, fat marker pen so I can cross off each day of ‘clean living’ to give myself some incentive. (Yes, I’m also the sort of person who is also motivated by gold stars.)

One day at a time baby.

I’ve had a distinct lack of butt plugs and ass-fucking with Mr Pink this week which I think has also contributed to my generally better mental health situation. I mean, we all know that LOPUMAs (lumps of plastic up my ass) give me a SAD, so a day without a LOPUMA is a good day in my books.

Another thing that has contributed to my positive feelings is that I’ve had a slight run on getting freebie stuff. The frugal gene in me LOVES freebie stuff so it’s very cosmically soothing to get:

A free block of chocolate waiting for me in the mailbox

Mmmm...dark chocolate

A free mars bar…or five. We bought ten and got five free ones in return

And I grew a ‘free’ tomato

(I’ll just conveniently forget that I spent at least $200 on assorted soil, fertilizer, shade cloth and seeds and all I got out of it was a two centimetre high funky tomato and some stunted lettuce.)

All we need now is some free money. Mmm…now that would cheer me up.

* I have to use this spelling because I just can’t cope with spelling it like ‘binging’.