It’s about that time, isn’t it?

Yup, I believe it is.

After Halloween on Saturday, the annual onslaught begins. And over on Facebook, the annual argument over whether you should say “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Holidays” has already started. Two more months of this?? groan

Really, people? Is there nothing more important to dicker about? If you send food over the holidays to people in war-torn territories, do you think they’re going to turn it down, or be ungracious about it, if you accompany your offering with the incorrect greeting? If someone is depressed and despondent because they’re missing a loved one over the holidays, and their friends extend some cheer, do you really think they’ll give a flying fuck about the verbiage? Over on FetLife, a very sweet soul has started a collection for a young woman, stricken with cancer, to help out with her three young children as well as medical bills. I can guaran-damn-tee she will gratefully accept any kindness, even if the donor accompanies it with a PC or non-PC holiday wish.

Come on. WHO GIVES A SHIT!

Damn. I’d better pace myself. As mentioned, I do have two more months of this. Steve had better be around for a lot of stress release, I’m just sayin’.

Truth be told, I’m really not feeling all that cranky. Work is busy again. One of John’s health issues seems to be stabilizing on its own, and he may not need a surgery for it. And hey, the clocks turn back an hour this weekend, so it will get dark at 5:00 again. Yes, I know I’m insane. I love the darkness.

Now if we could just be done with this @#$%ing 80s/90s weather…

Have a great weekend/Halloween, y’all. 🙂

On Halloween…

… what would a miscreant costume look like?

This, perhaps?

Oh, good. Then I don’t have to buy anything. 🙂

It seems that Mr. Steve took exception to my snarking at him on my blog last week. #sorrynotsorry

“I got the pictures to you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but they were late.”

“But I got the pictures to you, didn’t I?”

“You said ‘I’ll send them to you tonight,’ not ‘I’ll send them to you tomorrow.’ ”

“You ended up with the pictures, didn’t you?”

(sighing) “It’s really quite simple. If you say you’re going to do something at a certain time, do it at that time. If you’re not going to do it, then don’t say you will.”

“What’s really simple is that you’ll pay the consequence for my lateness. You’re the bottom; you’re always wrong.”

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well, that just @#$%ing bites, doesn’t it?

He even brought over a new toy, a crop with a different sort of tip to it — still leather, but floppier and thinner, so much more stinging. I had to keep reminding myself throughout the barrage: “You like sting, Erica. Remember, you like sting. Would you rather have heavy thud right now?” Of course not. Still, that thing is mean.

To be fair, he did stay away from my sit spots this time. We have decided to avoid those for a while, to give that one weak spot a rest. So that’s why you don’t see the redness extending down as it usually does.

See that crop’s tip? Ouch.

I like the peek-a-boo factor of this one — both my eye, and the redness peeping out under my dress.

And this time, Steve loaded the photos directly from his phone onto my computer before he left. 😀

To cap off a lovely day, I had dinner last night with my girls Alex and SpankCake. As usual, we were the last ones out of the restaurant, with the staff flashing the lights on and off as a not-so-subtle hint for us to get going already. Sheesh! Why couldn’t we stay and talk while y’all clean up and vacuum and all that other stuff you do before you leave? Other restaurants let us do that. Oh well.

Happy hump day. 🙂

The missing picture

As mentioned, Steve came through later with the photos. I call this one “Crop Top.”

Why? Let’s see. I’m wearing a crop top. My top is cropping me. Or, quite literally, a crop is on top of me. Take your pick. 🙂

I now have work, so it’s back to it for me. Have a great weekend, y’all.

(sigh) What’s a bottom to do?

Had a lovely visit/session with Steve yesterday. He didn’t bring his camera, but he took a few nice post-scene shots with his phone.

As he’s preparing to leave:

Me: Let’s load the pictures onto my computer.

Him: I’ll send them to you later. The pictures on my phone tend to look yellow and I want to fix them first.

Me: I can do that.

Him: Nah, I really want to get on the road before the bad traffic hits. I’ll send them to you tonight.

Me: Promise?

Him: Promise.

At the door:

Me: Don’t forget to send me the pictures, ok?

Him: I won’t, I promise.

Guess what? No pictures last night. This morning? Still no pictures.

Hence the sigh. What is a bottom’s recourse when a top fails to deliver on something he promised? Not much. Except to snark at him here!! :-Þ

In other news… there isn’t any. Work has been painfully slow — I wonder if this is the beginning of Holiday Lite? (groan) So far, I have cleaned out my closet, finished a 750-piece jigsaw puzzle and watched nearly all of Orange is the New Black Season 2. (Yes, I’m behind. I still use the old-time Netflix discs, not the streaming.) Everything else I think about doing costs money, which is probably not a good idea right now.

So, a few short-term reminders during my down time:

1. Don’t watch/read the news. It’s all bad.
2. Stay the hell out of the ever-present scene dramas and traumas.
3. Keep the A/C on and the windows closed. It’s the end of October and in the 80s outside, which makes me cranky.
4. Stay focused on the positive.
5. Flap my arms and fly to the moon, which is about as likely as a depressive staying positive. Oh well.

Hope everyone out there in BlogLand is having a good week so far.

UPDATE: It is now 2:30, and he has sent them. Exonerated. 🙂

My butt!

Why, you ask? Well, I’ve been remiss — I haven’t posted a picture of my ass since September 30. For shame.

I mean, everything about me is all about spanking, isn’t it?

:-Þ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Have a great weekend, y’all. 😉

Facebook, stupid people, and me

With a title like that, you know there’s some snark forthcoming, no?

OK, so pretty much everyone and their second cousin is on Facebook, including a lot of fellow kinksters. Generally, when kinky folks are on FB, they fall into one of two camps. Some of them use their scene names, and promote their material (books, videos, blogs, etc.) that has to do with their kink. And others are there under their real names, and don’t speak of the kink at all — they are there to connect with family, coworkers, vanilla friends, etc.

Surprise, surprise — I don’t fit into either camp. I use my scene name, but I don’t promote my scene stuff. I don’t post pictures of my bottom, of spanking, or any links to videos. (I did post a sort of g-rated kinky picture once of myself in bondage, but then I took it down.) I don’t talk about spanking. I don’t feel the need to do so — I can talk about that here, on FetLife, on Twitter. I belong to a Spanking Authors group, but it’s private. On FB, I’m friends with a lot of different people, including vanillas, and even a couple of cousins. Everyone knows what I do; I don’t exactly hide it. But I don’t broadcast it, out of respect for vanilla people, or for kink friends who are trying to appear vanilla on FB. So why do I use my scene name, you might ask. Simple. I post pictures of my face. And I don’t want to broadcast my real last name out there, for all the stalkers and weirdos to see and say, “Ah! So THAT’S who Erica Scott really is!” My real name is for friends only.

Being the troublemaker I can be sometimes, I’ll hint at it. For example, right before Shadow Lane, I’ll post a status along the lines of “Going to Vegas for a long weekend to engage in activities we don’t talk about on Facebook.” 😀  But I won’t spell it out.

So what do I find particularly annoying on FB? When I post something that has absolutely zero, zilch, zip to do with spanking, and commenters try to make it about spanking. So much for subtlety!

Yesterday, I went to lunch with my stepmother, and we had an unusually handsome waiter. Damn, he was gorgeous. I joked with my stepmom about how utterly effed up it is that I think this guy is cute and then realize I’m old enough to be his mother. When I got home, I posted a status on FB about life’s “fuck me” moments, mentioning the server and that sickening jolt when it occurred to me that he could be my son.

People liked the post and made lots of fun comments. Until the bozo who wrote, “I hope your stepmom tanned your bottom for those thoughts.”

Uh, no. Because life is not a spanking video, dear. If it were, I’d be 18, my stepmother would be a gorgeous MILF-y 42 or so, and sure, that would be video fodder. Real life? I’m 58 and she’s 83. Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. No one, but no one wants to see that. And if someone does, I don’t want to know who they are.

So, because I didn’t want to be rude (yes, that happens sometimes), I attempted to deflect his remark and steered things back onto the topic. But he wouldn’t give up. Today, he wrote that I should have at least gotten a “warming on the seat of my skirt.”

Oh, for Christ’s sake.

But before I could answer, someone else chimed in and told him to give it up, that this wasn’t about spanking, despite his clumsy efforts to make it so. And what does Bozo reply?

everything about eirica is about spanking she is a spanking model idiot

(Really? If you know so much about me, how come you can’t spell my name right, idiot?)

It still boggles my mind that some people think this way. Of course, if one is into spanking, especially if one’s career is centered around spanking, then every single thing they do and say and eat and drink and breathe and excrete comes down to spanking! Everything else — feelings, desires, relationships, hobbies, preferences, travels, travails, etc. — is just filler.

Newsflash, dumbass. No, everything about me is not about spanking. It’s part of my life, granted. A big part. But it’s not my whole life, period. Nor is it the whole life of spanking actresses, models, bloggers, authors. They all have various dimensions. They have likes and dislikes, loves and hates, favorite foods, children, mates, pets, allergies, childhood memories, songs they sing in the shower, nightmares, and all those other bits and pieces that make up the messy puzzle of human-ness.

Why would people assume that anyone’s life is that one-dimensional? I guess they think that porn stars have sex 24/7 too, huh? Because, well, sex. That’s all there is, isn’t there? (sigh)

Yeah, I know. You can’t fix stupid. But it helps to rant about it every now and then. 🙂