Erica Scott: Life, Love and Spanking

Ruminations, opinionated observations, darkly humorous blathering and the occasional rant from an outspoken spanko and unapologetic attention wh–, um, hog.

Archive for the category “bitching”

Yes, I’m in a bad mood

Trying to get some work done, and they are replacing some of the pipes in my apartment building. Pipes that are apparently very close to my unit. So, it’s been BANG BANG BANG, POUND POUND POUND, THUD THUD CRASH BANG for hours. This is not working wonders for my concentration, or for my temper.

So take a break, Erica. Go to the gym and work off the aggravation. Can’t. I tweaked my back and it hurts. No gym for me. I know better than to exercise when my back is out.

Steve left early this morning for his vacation. Haven’t heard from him since he called to cancel this week, last Sunday, and, despite his promises to write, to text, to send pictures, I can pretty much bet that I won’t hear from him again until after he comes home sometime next week. I know he doesn’t mean it. I know it’s not personal; it’s just what he does. He’s scattered and he forgets, especially when he’s all excited about a trip. Still sucks, though. It doesn’t take much to get me feeling forgotten, even though I know I’m not. Bleah.

I need a spanking like crazy. Sometimes, I really do wish I had more local top friends, ones who could step in when Steve isn’t available. Then again, I couldn’t play now anyway. Because, you know, my back hurts.

John is going back to work next Tuesday. I wish he were taking another couple of weeks off. He’s just starting to get his energy back, doing some odd jobs and projects around his house, and I wish he had a little more time to build up and be fully ready. But it’s been nine weeks. His friend and co-worker has been calling him nearly every day, regaling him with work stories (and no, they’re not fun, feel-good stories), which annoys the hell out of me. Why do people do that? What, is John supposed to feel guilty or something? He says he doesn’t mind, that in a way, it gets him prepared for what he’s coming back to. Meh. I didn’t want him thinking about work.

Just read online today that Maggie Gyllenhaal (you know, from Secretary), who is now 37, was turned down for a role playing the love interest of a 55-year-old man, because she’s “too old.” Thirty-seven is too old for a fifty-five-year-old?? UGH! I hate our ageist society. Just effing hate it. On FetLife, a woman wrote that her friends are making age jokes because it’s her 30th birthday. Sometimes, I want to slap people. Repeatedly.

Ugh. This day can kiss my ass.

I am, therefore I bitch

Or is it the other way around? Whatever. I don’t care.

Cosmopolitan magazine (yes, I read Cosmo, shut up) has a regular feature they call “Bitch It Out!”, in which they invite their readers to vent their frustrations, aggravations and complaints. Not because they can do anything about them, but because they recognize sometimes it feels good to blow off steam and just maybe, others out there will relate to you. I rather like this idea, so I’m going to indulge in a bit of bitching myself. And after that, I’m opening the floor. Someone pee in your Wheaties? Having a suckfest of a day? Let go of it here! Have fun with it. You’ll feel better, I promise.

I hate the dentist. No, not my dentist, personally. He’s a decent chap. But I hate going to the damn dentist. I don’t like people poking around in my mouth. I don’t like having my jaw wedged open until it feels like it’s going to lock in that position. I really, really don’t like that nasty, poky little implement that scrapes and scrapes and scrapes. I hate the taste of that stupid numbing agent that’s supposed to make me not feel the needle, but I do anyway (and I hate the needle too). I hate the sound of the drill and the smell of teeth being pulverized by it. And you know what I hate more than any of that? How @#$%ing much it costs for the dubious pleasure of all this torture.

I had my annual dental exam today. I get my teeth cleaned twice a year and I observe all the proper oral hygiene, so my teeth are generally in decent shape. But when I was younger I wasn’t as conscientious, so I have a mouthful of crowns and fillings. Only one root canal, though. So far.

Last year, I got a clean bill of health after the x-rays and exam, and I exhaled in gratitude, realizing I hadn’t taken a breath in the past 45 minutes. Today, I wasn’t so lucky. Triple whammy… An old crown needs replacing, as well as a very old filling, plus I have a tiny new cavity. Fun fun fun! Dear teeth: You suck. So I had to make an appointment for two fillings and a crown; I am NOT doing this before the Shadow Lane party, so I scheduled it for the Tuesday after I come home. What the hell, I’ll be dealing with post-party drop anyway. Might as well throw in mouth pain and get it all over with at once.

The cost of today’s exam and the upcoming work? $1,145. And that is with dental insurance. What the hell are they putting in my teeth, platinum?

Funny thing about checking accounts — they don’t self-replenish. You have to actually have some work to do, earn some money and deposit it. Not much of that going on around here. So you’d think my damn teeth would cooperate and stay healthy, but noooooooo. Blech. Nothing I can do about it, though. I’m rather attached to my teeth, so I gotta do what I gotta do.

It was 108 degrees here today, at least that’s what my car’s temp gauge read on the way home. Have I mentioned lately how much I detest the heat? I don’t even feel like playing, which would probably do me a world of good. Ever notice how extremes in temperature either way are not conducive to spanking? If it’s too cold, you want to stay bundled up, not remove layers of clothing. And when it’s this hot, the last thing you feel like doing is exerting yourself. This afternoon, I sat in my computer chair and thought, “I’m hungry. I’m hungry. I’m hungry.” However, it took me nearly an hour to go get something to eat. Why? It seemed like too damn much effort to get up and walk into the kitchen. So forget spanking. Six swats in and I’m breaking a sweat. And don’t give me this baloney about how women don’t sweat, they glow and look dewy. I’m not a freaking Southern magnolia blossom. I sweat.

It was a crappy day. Not a heartbreaking day, not a tragic day, not an earth-shattering day… just enough to make me cranky as hell. Forgive me and thank you for listening. But I’m all about equal opportunity.

So, something have you cranked out of shape? Share! Bitch it out. I feel so much better.

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