|Your Ultimate Purity Score Is…|
When I think about you – or anyone – I touch myself
For Christ’s sake, put your clothes on!
I got needs, baby, you gotta unnastan’!
Knows the other body type like a map
Makes Dr. Frank-n-Furter look tame
Don’t look in the basement
|You are 19.95% pure
Average Score: 72.6%
You Are Womanly Sexy!
Whether you’re a full fledged woman or still a girl, you have seduction power
You’ve been training to be a seductress since you were young…
In fact, you probably kissed almost all the boys in your kindergarten class.
Your womanly skills attract all sorts – but you find the young guys the hottest.
Your Seduction Stye: “Sex Pot”
Tradionally known as a “siren”, “rake”, or “femme fatale.” You exude sensuality.
And while your sexiness is part of what makes you an incredible seducer…
Your ability to make others feel sexy is what really makes your seduction skills shine.
Most people don’t feel attractive or desired enough – a need which you tap into.
You have the ultimate sex appeal, and getting attention from you is a total self esteem boost.
Your confidence is contagious, and you help others unleash their own sexuality.
Your sex pot seduction skills are so intoxicating that you can get away with… well, almost murder.
Lovers feel like your sensuality is in your blood, so it’s only natural if you flirt a little.
And if you stray, that might be okay as well – as long as you make your lover still feel hot.
You Are a Switch!
Top. Bottom. Giver. Taker. You can’t make up your mind.
And truth is, why should you? Kink is wildest when you can switch roles.
You’re ability to get off in all sorts of ways makes you a versitile lover.
You can get along with a sub or dom(me) – but another switch is what really blow your mind
Yah, well, I already knew that!
Pics are of me from the other day, Fetware, maker of lovely plastic clothes, is sponsoring one of my sites, and they sent me a black plastic see through bra and panty set. So I did a shoot in them.
Today was good.
Got pics of the lovely Josie Nutter to use on my headshave site.
Got pics from the fabulous fetish photog Eric Kroll of headshaves for my headshave site.
Had a good friend come over.
Went shopping together and bought 10 pairs of those big holed fishnets. Wondering if I shouldn’t have bought even more. Who knows if I’ll ever find them again, especially at that price, in a plus size.
Went out with friend and Wolfe for delish Chinese food.
Back to the loft and took loads of pics of sexy friend… first time photographing her, and I was just SO happy with the results. The camera loves her, some people are beautiful, but challenging to take beautiful pictures of, they come out awkward looking in 2D, but she’s beautiful in person, and extremely photogenic. She also happens to be a BBW and exotic looking to boot, so the pictures are just… yummy. YUMMY. I’ll share some another time.
Then I got to edit lovely said pictures for a few hours, and I love working with the images I take, so that was very happy making. While friend and Wolfe got beer and pie at the pub.
Then… had pie brought back to me from the pub.
Did the crossword puzzle while eating left over chinese food and pie, while watching Letterman.
Then… here, now, sated.
Time for bed, a book, and sweet dreams.
Found some oldfashioned style fishnet tights with the REALLY big holes, that actually fit me, at an amazing price. I wasn’t sure whether they would fit so I only bought one pair, tomorrow I’m going back to the store and clearing out their stock! They’re my favorite thing in the world to have cover my legs, and who knows if/when I’ll be able to find them again, specially so cheap.
Got dolled up and went to the BDSM munch out in Surrey, was nice, chatted with my girls, ate some very blue rare steak, which I was craving. Not surprising since I’m menstruating like mad.
Chatted lots online with a new bald cutie who is going to send me pics of her I can use on my headshave site! woo hoo! I want to be the one stop drop to see all the cute bald chicks of the world! I’m psyched.
I’ve also finished writing a big article on non-monogamy. We’re revamping the main Erotimania site to be a sex positive, educational resource, free site. We’ll still have all our little pay site niches, but we want to move more into having resource info, and articles. So Wolfe and I have been writing, and writing, and writing. It will take a while before we have enough content to make the turn over. It’s exciting to have new projects.
Also went to value village and found great finds for photo shoot fun. I found a cute romper with bunnies and a butt flap that looks like a cotton tail, which is almost identical (just different colors) to one I bought at another Value Village a few months ago. Now I have two little bunny rompers, I just need to find two little bunnies to romp in them.
I also found platform leopard print fuzzy shoes that are really… unique. They’re a bit intense. I think they’re horrible and gorgeous all at the same time, and I need to do a foot fet shoot with them.
That’s it from me, It’s 1am, time to do the crossword puzzle in the newspaper in bed, read a bit, and drift off to sleepy land.
Tommorow I have a cutie coming over that I’ve never photographed before, beautiful Indo-europian BBW, also a subbie, so I’m psyched about that.
I’ve started running our cam more often than not, for a while there we hardly ever had it on. Wolfe, my partner, has a little ‘cam window’ on his journal, I’ll have to ask him to set one up for me on my journal, not that I’m always liking what I see in there. This ‘morning’ as I write (slightly after noon, but that’s when we get up) It’s not the prettiest site.
I don’t know why I’ve been writing so infrequently here, I’ve somehow lost my love affair with my journal for a while, and now I kind of grudgingly come into it’s arms every once in a while, like a marriage where you have a commitment to intimacy, but for a while, you’re just not feeling it.
Maybe it’s because I’m afraid of intimacy alltogether right now, keeping too tight a lid on all my feelings, with my depression and anxiety, I’ve been in this place of ‘bottling’ everything quite tight, and anything that starts to move me in a direction where ‘feelings’ spooky spooky, might start spilling out, is scary.
And, I’m not a good faker. I could easily come here and just write, yesterday I did blah blah, today, I’m doing blah blah, I’m reading this book, the weather is wet. But I’d just feel like a big fat liar. That I was just ‘padding’ the journal so there was -something- there. The problem would be the something wouldn’t be the reflection of me, of what was REALLY happening with me. Which isn’t about where I’ve been, or what I’ve done, what I’m reading, or the weather.
I think until I get a little less scared of looking at that, these pages are going to be kept at the same infrequent pace, if I haven’t something that -moves- me, that makes me feel it’s of a real value to share. Then I’ll write, but I won’t use ‘filler’.
It’s going to have to be quality over quantity, and since it’s about my journalling experience, that ultimately is going to be a very personal qualifier of what goes in, and what doesn’t.
Something I haven;t done since it was assigned to me in College as part of a course. Likely to be fraught with lots of typos and with lots of weird and whacked sentencesa and grammar because it’s more stream of conscio0usness than what I regluarly do which is already strweam of consciosness writing. I’ve been awake now for less than one minute. This is how we were taught to do it. As soon as you get up, as soon as you awaken, you write, you write everything yuo remember. AWhat I remember first of course is what happeneded last. plunging a large plastic sickle given to me by an old Indo -Canadian man deep into the chest of the vampire and raking it slowly using all my strength as it wasn’t very sharp, through his chest, his gutsk hoping it was enough, knowing if it wasn’t, I was out of options, out of weapons and out of life. I’m not sure why I’m doing this, dream journalling now. When it was assigned to me in college, in a psych course about dreaming where we were all to keep journals, there were some people who had never before remembered a dream in their lives, and were taught how, there were peopel who only remembered occaional dreams, or who dreamed in black and white. Then there was the very odd one, like me. Who dreamt everynight of many days gone by, sometimes, weeks, sometimes years, and when I woke, I was careful to NOT think to clearly on them, to let dreams do what they do naturally and slip quickly away in our memories, because otherwise, if I dwelled on them, the mental time I lived dreaming, the conscious memory of dreaming life, was far far vaster and greater than the time spent waking. My old prof, said that in my case, rathter than journal every day on my dreams, all my dreams, which would not relaly be possible anyways because I could write from waking to sleeping, and still not tell the whole of it, to maybe just write a short bit, every few days. Lest the dreams, take me over. Which they are want to do. When yuo’ve just spent, as I have about a week and a half, falling in love, having your heart broken, overdosing on drugs, making new friends, losing old friends, and fighting off several undead, and trying to hone your flying skills, well, if you dwell on it too much, all that dream crap, it kind of takes on a life of it’s own, maybe because it’s more interesting than morning television, shopping at value village and schdueiling porn shoots, ok, maybe not more interesting, but interesting always in a new way, every night, a night of several new adventures.
Last nights unrequited love from little geek boy dream venue wasn’t all that exciting, but in my dream got me upset enough to take a mild overdose of sedatives, not enough to do me harm, just enough to knock me out for a bit, doesn’t take much analysis that. I couldn’t fall asleep last night and had to take a slightly heftier dose of my new helping me to fall asleep anti agitation medication. I used to be taking seraquil (spelling) but my liver enzymes where going up, and it can do that, so I switched back to an old friend, clonazepam, which is not ‘habit forming’ except for me psychologically, because if I take a high enough dose of it, I get so numb, I can even have ‘black out’ periods… woo hoo, for people who don’t deal with psychotic agitation along with depression, I’m sure this doesn’t sound very appealing, for people like me who do… it’s a temptation at times, ‘escape! escape!’. Anyways, last night was a rougher night so I popped three of my 2mg pills instead of my usual two, which left me with some guilt, and feeling like a pill junkie. ooooooh, 6mg, it doesn’t actually feel like it does that much for me anymore, now 8mg, that would be far far away time. but I’m rationing myself. I’m also off topic, I was going to dream journal.
Now I’m conflicted is my use of prescription medication more interesting than the dreaming about having to battle of multiple vampires? The last one I killed with the plastic sickle was the last of a few. That was a long drawn out battle. At least he gave me a somewhat fair chance to start out with, It didn’t have to be wood, I just had to get to the suckers heart to kill him, he came out of the vampire house (the rest of the vampire colleaugues and humans had already gone the way of the sharp pointy stick/knife what have you) bearing arm loads of pointy items, from ineffectual chopsticks and shishkabob skewers kitchen cutlery, to more deadly stuff like steak knifes, and some spooky looking ‘real knives’. He seemed to think it was amusing to arm me, and so we divied the stuff up equally, such a sporting vampire really, or so he seemed. He even laid aside his double barrel shot gun, which I suppose was only fair since he just had the one. After a long battle of you throw a pointy thing at me and I try and dodge and vice versa, we had kind of come to a stand off, I had managed to score with some pretty ineffectual pointy things, like kitchen hardware, we were out of stuff, and the sneeky bugger said lets call it a truce, I will stop trying to kill you, you can stop trying to kill me, and we’ll go on our merry ways. I said no problem, just let me carry this extra long and pointy stick with me as I walk out of town, I’ll feel just a wee bit better, he graciously accepted and off I went down the block. A neighbour called out a warning when I was about three quarters of a block away and the bugger had the shotgun aimed at me. Definitely not FAIR. I could not throw a pointy stick that far an accurately. I did have a chance to dive for cover and avoide the two bullets exploding my way. I don’t think he had any more, or maybe the reload concept got lost in the dreaming, I threw my stick, silly me, still too far away and landed way off the mark, and Mr. nice guy vampire decided to come on after me with his natural weapons, hands, teeth, that kind of thing. Where and how he got on the bicycle to do it I don’t remember, it’s one of those weird dream things and who cares. It may seem laughable now, but when you’re dreaming your defencelss against a bicycle riding vampire, and your not lucid dreaming, it wasn’t particularly droll. Then old indo-canadian dude with a halloween style reaper style plastic sycle out of know where took a couple of innefectual swats at his back, shrugged, handed me the thing just in time, and using a lot of strength and will power, I managed to lodge it’s mostly dull point somewhere between ribs and collar bone, bear down deep, and then slowly drag along in a vivisecting fashion. Lo and behold, sneeky old vampire dude crumbled, and I now flew happily off. ( I love flying in dreams, but am often not very profficient at it, I have a problem attaining good altitude, and when fleeing vampires, don’t fly away nearly as fast as I would like to).
Now that was the tail end of the dream, and there was LOTS more madness before this, but, if I start into all of that, as I said before, I’ll be writing all day, and the more I write the more I remember, the more I remember the more I seem to dream, and then my dream nights become long sections of life lived, and my days little boring interventions. Which is why my old psych prof with a raised eyebrow said ‘oh, you’re one of those, just write a little piece of it, every day or so’.
I’m still mostly asleep writing this, which is the best way too dream journal, you who are grammar and spelling nazis may not be agreeing with me. I still have heartburn, not from my dreams, but because taking too much clonazepam at night gives me the munchies and I ate 4 uncooked hot dog weiners (for those of you concerened, they are a precooked food, like deli slices, you can’t get ill by them, unless you eat 4 right before bed) along with a huge hunk of cheese, a big spoon full of peanut butter, and several tums antacids, which helped me through the night, but are doing nothing to quell my vampire slayer morning heartburn now, so I’m off, for tums, diet cola, and either back to bed with Wolfe and the pig (Iggy our pug boston terrier dog) or to curl up under the blankets and check out whose decorating what on that channel where people let psycho designers into their homes to put feathers, straw or cardboard on their walls (for those of you who know what I’m talking about… well there must be a we hate Hilde from trading spaces club out there somewhere) The only one of THEM I’d let in my house is vern yip. Okay, I’ve blathered enough half asleep nonsense.
Oh, and by the way, happy new year, merry ho ho, and all that. I need to go lay down now, and find some more tums.