Just a Thought to Share

I posted the following on my Yahoo group the other day and it garnered such a strong response that I decided to post it here as well. Thanks again to those who wrote in with kind words.

A note: This was not written out of anger but more out of feeling annoyed.

To whom it may concern

Master being a decent human being first before you go looking to own
one. If that's too difficult for you, perhaps you can feed your
weakened sense of self by finding victims with an equally weak sense of
self to feed off. Me? Not one shred of my self worth is tied up in
your acceptance. If that threatens you (which it seems it has) feel
free to join another group to fuel your dim view of the world.

sincerely submissive,
cerina x

This is just a general thought I wanted to share. Thank you for your
time and I hope the upcoming holidays bring blessings to you all.


There is a difference between domination and taking advantage of someone's love for you. ~me~

The Somber Truth

"We women have forgotten more about cruelty than you could ever remember."

Elizabeth I

Rubber Ball: Part Deux

I have returned from Minneapolis where I had a fabulous time at the Rubber Ball. I am feeling even more fabulous knowing I am not the only one who takes a camera but doesn't take pictures. Four women with cameras and not one photo....seriously. I'm not sure this is even funny anymore.

About the Ball:

I'd like to thank cutie pie Adam for being such a sweetheart and making my drinks precisely how I like them without poisoning me. He also deserves a big thumbs up for being so adorable that we ladies had some eye candy for the evening.

Another thumbs up goes to my nilla friends who know how to behave at a public event such as this. I wish I could say the same for everyone who was there. A friend of a friend obviously doesn't get out of the house much and embarrassed us with a very loud display.

What I learned at the Rubber Ball:

1) Men in hoods scare me.

2) I will never be mummified in latex with only a straw to breathe through. Just watching the demonstration gave me the willies.

3) DON'T TOUCH THE STAGE! They had a runway which stuck out onto the dance floor and when Kristine tried to do her impression of Madonna's Like a Virgin roll on the stage we were quickly scolded. pffffft...party poopers

4) The best place to meet men is the outside balcony of the courtyard.

5) I am an overly protective sister who needs to put a GPS tracking device on Holly so that I can relax when she is not within viewing distance. (don't ask)

A final thumbs up to Erin the night desk clerk who put up with our sixteen phone calls wanting to know why we could not get food at 3 a.m in a city of 4 million people.

Little tip: The 3 hour ride home will seem like 8 when you're hungover

I can hardly wait for next year!

The Rubber Ball

It is that time of year again. The snow is gone, the sun is shining higher in the sky, birds are singing, AND it is Rubber Ball week. yay!!! Nothing says spring has sprung like all the pervs gathering in one spot to celebrate their freedom of expression.

I'm going with a small group of fabulous women who I am thrilled to share this part of my life with. I am VERY lucky to have such loving, supportive, and fun friends in my life. I value them beyond words.

Ok. THIS time there will be pictures because Kristine is picture taking crazy. So even if I don't get my batteries recharged, or lose the camera, or just plain forget the camera at home or in the hotel room, she has me covered. No cameras are allowed inside the event but I'm sure we will be taking a few pics before we go inside. Hopefully. Lately I've been thinking there is a camera gremlin who is holding a very serious grudge against me. The last couple of times I've really wanted to take pictures everything that could go wrong...blah blah...you've heard this all from me before. Just keep your fingers crossed for me, ok?

ta ta kiss kiss

Hair Today Gone Tomorrow

I last had my hair done a couple of weeks before the Sweden trip. One never wants to go anywhere special with freshly cut hair because you just never know what may happen. So, being overdue for my appointment, I happily call my salon in Minneapolis thinking how much fun it will be to update Amy (my stylist) on everything that has been going on. She's my pal....she's my bud...right? Then I hear the words that will strike fear into any woman, "I'm sorry but Amy is no longer with our company." Shock! Horror! Gasp!

This cannot be true. Amy would never leave me! Say it isn't so. "Miss, I can recommend another stylist", the so cheeful-she-needs-to-be-slapped receptionist says to me. I stammer and shakily decline the offer. I hang up the phone as my heart sinks. She's gone. No note. No phone call. Nothing. Amy has left me. I sit and stare at the wall for five minutes. I go to the bathroom to look into the mirror. I'm overdue. It has been seven weeks already. One week overdue. I am not fit for public viewing. ( I take my coiff very seriously folks ) I decide I need at least one day to mourn the loss before making the decision...find another stylist. God help me.

I awoke feeling brave. To hell with Amy! I will find someone new. (gulp) I choose a salon owned by a woman I've known most of my life. She ran a salon with my mother for many years and Mom suggested I try there. After Amy I only want someone who was trained at the Aveda Institute which is one of the best in the country. Something tells me this small city will not afford me that option. The salon I choose claims to be "an Aveda concept salon". I am hopeful.

I make an appointment with a woman named, Lauren. It's a nice name. I pray that is a favorable omen. After chain smoking 2 cigarettes on the way there I can barely bring myself to go inside. "please God don't let her ruin me."


Lauren is well coiffed which gives me hope. I tell her my situation and she promises to be gentle with me since it is our first time. As I smile and make small talk I am frantically looking around her station for her beautician license. I spot it but there is no indication of what school she attended. (If she ruins me I will kill her. They will not find the body.)

Lauren preps my hair to be colored and I noticed she is shaking. Oh great...she has probably been told by her boss that I cry hysterically if my hair is not done right. I had issues when I was younger and my mother would not get my hair just right. I had no problem balling like a baby in public then. My mother's fellow stylists would stare in shock. Lauren knows this...I can feel it. Ok ok so it might be paranoia on my part. I get this. Work with me here.

Ms. Lauren announces that she wishes to "get this just right" for me. NOW I'm scared. When the stylist is showing fear that is usually the time to run screaming for the door.

side note: Amy always had me cut, colored, and out the door in ONE HOUR.

An hour and a half later......LAUREN IS ONLY HALF DONE. I kid you not! She was sucking my will to live she went so slowly. It was at this point I read her license more closely. She graduated less than a YEAR ago! For the next 45 minutes my silent mantra is "don't cry don't cry don't cry".

FINALLY my hair is being rinsed and Lauren gasps and says "oh my god it looks great! It turned out!" Are you kidding me?! Does this bitch have a death wish?!

We get back to a mirror and I see that yes indeed my hair looks very nearly like Amy's work. I am relieved and cancel my plans for the hitman. Lauren is beaming she is so proud when I tell her it looks fabulous and I leave her a huge tip. Lauren lives to see another day.

My kingdom for an Aveda girl. I hope you rot in hell Amy.

St. Pat's Day

My sister and I made great time to Milwaukee only to find 50% of their inner city freeway system under construction. This might not have been a problem if sis had brought directions to the hotel. "Holly? Did you print directions?" Holly: "oh yeah...I knew I forgot something." We spent the next 20 minutes driving north, then south, on every street BUT Astor. We did eventually bump into the hotel. "oh yeah...this is where it is." .....it's difficult to believe we share the same genetics at times.

It was obvious the entire city of Milwaukee had decided County Clare was THE place to spend St Pat's. Because we were guests of the hotel we were afforded little luxuries those off the street would not be treated to. Valet parking: I don't even want to know where they parked the car. Ignorance is bliss. I handed over the keys hoping some crack addict wouldn't see the half eaten sandwich in the back seat as an invitation.

We were checked in by a young woman who felt faking an irish accent would give guests an authentic feel. Little tip: when pretending to be irish with guests it might be best if in the next breath you don't turn to a fellow employee and answer their question in your usual nasal midwest tone. Just a thought.

The room was gorgeous and beyond expectations. Holly summed it up immediately when she turned to me and said, "This sure would be a great room if we were in love."

On to the best part: The party.
We listened to irish bands, drank room temp beer, quizzed men with kilts on underwear preferences, taunted people off the street who had to use porta potties, choked down dry corned beef sandwiches, used female charms to cut in lines, batted our eyelashes at hunky Milwaukee police men in kilts, spoke in tongues after our second shot of irish whiskey, toasted friends who couldn't possibly make the party and had no clue what they were missing, sang at the top of our lungs with 20 of our newest pals, had drunken tete a tete's over why it's so great we are sisters, and vowed there is no way in hell we are missing this party next year.

Corned beef sandwiches: six dollars
Romantic hotel room with jakuzzi: One hundred-fifty dollars
Feeling men up under kilts with your sister: Priceless


I have finally recovered from the bird flu. Ok so it wasn't the bird flu but calling it that is more amusing than intestinal problems. I'm sure you agree.


It was a lovely, intimate, blissful week. It was mine. Ours. I feel as though if I share too many details it becomes less special. There was snuggling, laughing, talking, love making, filthy sex, and a bit of partying. It made me happy and re-energized me. I should be in need of a fix by our next trip. The location hasn't been decided yet but he did express a preference for "something warm and beachy". I think I can handle that.

Off for my new adventure

My sister and I leave for Milwaukee tomorrow for a St Pat's celebration at hotel County Clare. We've been there before and it is a wonderful Irish hotel/restaurant/pub which puts together a huge celebration each year for this holiday. I shall try to take pictures but by now you all know I suck at remembering to take them.

ta ta kiss kiss


I'm Home!

Hey everyone. I'm back home, very tired and loving my own bed. I had a fabulous time and will tell you more when my brain is functioning at full capacity. I promise. Don't get too excited because I'm only sharing the G and PG rated moments with you. *grin* Sorry.


Just thought I'd leave you all with a picture of where I'll be. Stockholm. Yay!! If you behave I might bring back presents.


My Father

My mother, sister, and a few friends have been in Aruba all this week. My father is handicapped and was unable to go. Someone needed to stay behind and take care of him. I was volunteered. I don't mind really even though I was a bit disappointed I couldn't go along. (it is -12 degrees here right now)

Here's the thing...

He's bitter. He's angry. He has made a great effort this week and has managed to be nice to me but this has been a week of walking on eggshells. I know he wants to explode but is just smart enough to realize that if he blows up at me I will walk out and not come back the next day. Today is the last day and I am dreading going over there because I never know what mood will greet me.

It's hard seeing a once strong vital man physically dwindling down to nothing until the disease attacks his heart and he dies. It is a waiting game. I'm angry and bitter as well. I think we all are. We feel guilty for being able to go places and do things he cannot do and I think we secretly feel anger towards him for 'making' us feel this way.

I am going out with friends tonight and have to break it to him that he needs to go to bed at 9:30. *sighs* He won't. I know it. There will be a power play. He will tell me to 'just go' and he'll get to bed on his own at 10:00. Mind you...when my mother is home he is in bed by 8:30. He is not fooling me. This is being done to show me who is boss.

Wish me luck


Waxing Update

There are hardly words to describe how incredibly unpleasant my experience was but I shall try as I sit on a bag of frozen peas. The frozen veggie tip came from a friend to whom I am eternally grateful.

Simply having the bikini area done would have been a piece of cake. It was the labia that almost had me in tears at one point. Outwardly I kept as calm as possible while on the inside I was holding a teddy bear and crying for my mommy. The woman who performed the procedure was as sweet as could be and did an excellent job. She is my hero. She had better be Jeff's hero as well.

I did opt to have my butt crack waxed as well which was not at all painful. It was more humbling than anything to be on all fours with a strange woman waxing that area. Oh the things we do for love.

I predict very expensive jewelry in my future. *grin*

Little tips on waxing from me to you:

1) Do take Ibuprofen at least 30 minutes before you go. I forgot to do so.

2) Optimally the hair should be at least 1/2 inch long so don't think you'll be helping out by trimming before hand. Too long makes it more painful.

3) Make sure frozen peas are in your freezer before you leave.

4) Wear very loose fitting slacks or sweat pants.

5) Have baby oil at home which will get rid of residual wax.

6) Do not go too close to your period as you might be a bit puffy and that will make it more uncomfortable. Queen Wax suggested to stay away the full week before your period and of course during your period.

7) If you have a big event or trip in my mind have this done a full week before you go.

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The Waxing

It has become a joke among my friends. My upcoming appointment to have my girly bits waxed clean. Totally clean. Like the day I was born. They know I'm scared and are taking full advantage of that. Kris sent me a link to one woman's story and this woman admitted to screaming like a banshee. My sister said it was nothing at all but then she only had the bikini line waxed. I've done that myself in the past so I know how much pain is associated with it.

I called Jeff early this morning to ask if we could have a little chat. He was open to it so I proceeded to tell him that the trip is not at all making me nervous but HE is making me nervous. He has stated a new demand every day since I purchased my ticket. The only rest I had was his trip to China. ((gosh I loved that trip)) He wasn't back one day when the demands started up again. Get this, do that, etc etc. It became overwhelming and I told him it needed to stop or I'd be a basket case. His response: "First of all, let us not forget that most of what I have asked for was offered by you. I will cease to place any further demands upon you and if there is something you are uncomfortable with to the point of losing sleep you may change it. HOWEVER...the waxing STAYS. Do you hear me?"

I heard him. So I am calling in the morning to make my appointment. Honestly, I'm not sure it's the pain I'm afraid of. Mostly it is the awkwardness of having a strange woman ripping hair from my girly bits. I will be at her mercy. I'm not liking that at all.

I'll let you all know how it goes. Pray for me, ok?

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