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 “J”

Correspondence Hall of Shame, 10/29

Been a while, hasn’t it? I don’t have too many offerings, but I couldn’t let Halloween weekend pass without a few frights.

hi mayb we get to know eachother??

Or mayb not.

This one was from a 19-year-old:

I think you are super hot.
Can we fuck?

Well, I know I can, and I suppose you can too. Oh, you mean with each other? No chance, Junior.

You’re 19!!! Why on earth are you propositioning a 53-year-old? Can you even count to 53?

A comment on one of my FetLife photos:

well trained, i must say !
Excuse me? Really?? Do I look like a @#$%ing circus seal to you? Train this, pal.

I looked up his profile; he’s one of those uber-Dom types with “Master” in his name. Here’s my question — if he’s so masterful, why is he writing in all lower case, including “i”? 😀

And this week’s favorite:

I am 6’3, 275, D/D free, non drinker, non smoker, THICK, long lasting and can cum multiple times if the feelings right

Ummmm… good for you?
Let me get this straight: You’re just one inch taller than my boyfriend, yet you weigh about 100 pounds more than he does? I’ll say you’re THICK. Sorry, dude. I’m not into guys whose necks are bigger around than my thigh.

Here’s a follow-up on the guy who posted that comment about “older butts” on my FetLife photo earlier this week. I decided to reply with this:

Please tell me that my eyesight is failing me — someone didn’t actually post the words “older butts” on one of my photos, did they? No one could be that clueless… right?

He then wrote:

Ok, vintage butts is a better term….my bad

Oh yeah, that’s much better. I’m not old… I’m vintage! (rolling eyes) And you’re not stupid, you’re brain-cell deficient.

What else is going on… For those who have been asking about J (and thank you for that), he spent 2 1/2 hours with his doctor yesterday. She took blood, x-rays, asked him all sorts of questions. She thinks he may have some sort of low-grade infection that is keeping him sick all this time, but she wanted to wait to see what the various tests yielded before she threw antibiotics at him. So… we wait. Meanwhile, he’s functioning. The good news is, she isn’t worried about his weight loss. He’s thin, but he’s not underweight and his BMI is good. She told him don’t try to force calories, just try to eat enough now to maintain his weight until he gets his appetite back.

I think this has scared him; it sounds like he’s ready to make some lifestyle changes, cut his work hours, get more sleep. I just hope the resolve doesn’t disappear once he feels better… but I can’t worry about that now. I have to stay in the present and hope for the best.

Meanwhile, I had my first experience with cryotherapy yesterday — I had a benign thing on my face sprayed with liquid nitrogen, which freezes the growth and kills it. Not for the squeamish, folks. The treatment causes an ugly, swollen blister before it heals and sloughs off. So now I have a band-aid on my face so others don’t have to look at this icky thing. Perhaps I’ll take it off on Sunday and go out and scare small children. (OK, it’s not that bad.)

Here’s the insult to injury. This thing on my face has a fancy name: Seborrheic Keratosis. I did a little research on it, and found that an alternate name for it is “senile wart.” In other words, it’s a benign growth that older people get.

And now if you will excuse me, I’m going to go open a vein. Have a great Halloween weekend, y’all.

Looks like LOL V was a success!

Looking through the spanko blogosphere, it looks like Bonnie’s Love Our Lurkers Day #5 did very well. Many participants and hundreds of comments; how cool is that! For everyone who stopped by here, thank you. I did get some new commenters, and that made me smile. Two people sent me comments via email — Carolyn and Rob, thank you as well.

After a day of so much positivity, I can’t bring myself to post a Correspondence Hall of Shame. It will keep.

Before I forget — everyone go wish Pixie a very happy birthday! 🙂

I confess, I am in a bit of subdued place today. Five weeks of worrying about J have taken a toll on me. So many caring friends have been writing and calling, expressing concern and making suggestions, all valid. However, ultimately, I’m not the one who makes any decisions about J — he is. And he insists up and down and sideways that for him, this is a normal duration of illness. I told him today that he needs to make a lifestyle change, even after he recovers from this thing. Get more sleep, not work so many hours. Running himself into the ground every day spends his reserves, and he has nothing shored up to fight off illness. He actually agreed with me… but whether or not he’ll do it remains to be seen. And frankly, I don’t know how much longer I can sit by and watch him killing himself.

The good news is, his appetite is returning. Sugar still makes him sick, but he’s eating more of other things. I will head to his place tomorrow morning and assess him this weekend. He promised me that he will go back to Kaiser yet again next week if he doesn’t continue to improve. I will hold him to that.

So, fun and light-heartedness have been a rare commodity lately, except for Mondays. I’d say New Guy has been a Godsend, but I don’t believe in those. So I’ll just say he’s been one helluva bright spot. 🙂  I still can’t believe he rose out of the slime pit that is alt.com. See, what did I tell you guys about leaving my ad there, just for the hell of it — every few years, it pays off!

Seems he took exception to my public dissemination of his grammatical gaffe, and has sworn to LAY me across my bed and LAY into my butt. Uh oh. Ah well, it was worth it.

Onward, a day at a time. Have a good weekend, y’all.

Rainy Monday

I love it. It’s gray and serene and so, so quiet. Just the patter of the raindrops. It soothes my soul.

This weekend was a little better than the last one; J is very weak and tired all the time, and still a little feverish, but he was a bit more himself this weekend. I saw glimpses of his joking self now and then. I just wish he’d get his appetite back… he’s so thin. He did go to the doctor again last week, had an exam. It’s not in his lungs, he doesn’t have swollen glands in his neck. I don’t know why it’s lasted this long, but it could be because he was so damned run down before he got it, working 12-14-hour days and sleeping so little. Anyway, I took him on his various errands, made sure he was fed, helped him with his chores.

Regarding my scene with Craig tonight — unfortunately, life interferes with one’s fun once again, and he had to postpone. Too much stuff going on, very understandable. We are hoping to reschedule soon.

Meanwhile, last night I remembered that New Guy had suggested our getting together tonight and I had told him I couldn’t. Taking a chance that he hadn’t made other plans, I wrote to him and said that if he wasn’t busy and would still like to come over, he was more than welcome.

He’ll be here at 6:30 tonight. 🙂

It’s raining. I’m playing. For another little while, I can let go of worrying about J. He called me this morning… just wanted to assure me that he’s hanging in there and tell me how much he appreciated my care this weekend. (sigh) I’m glad it makes him feel better. I just wish I didn’t hate doing it so much. Seeing him in such a weakened state makes me panic and project, and when I do that, I’m screwed.

Off to the gym with me.

Calgon, take me away!

Remember those commercials, or am I hopelessly dating myself? Anyway, I don’t need a fancy bubble bath — I need a lobotomy.

Stressful weekend. Went to J’s Saturday morning and found him even worse than he was last weekend. He looked so sick, it scared me, but he insisted he was more tired than anything else and we should go have some lunch.

Took him to get a bite to eat and then ran errands with him, at his insistence. He needed printer cartridges (of course, that couldn’t wait) and he wanted to get his groceries too. It was 90+ degrees out, and he sat in my passenger seat, bundled up in his jacket and with his fur-lined trenchcoat wrapped around him. Still, we got the errands done and got him back home to bed.

Couple of hours later, he came staggering out of the bedroom, and the look on his face made my heart jump up to where my tonsils used to be. I will not detail what happened right after that. Suffice it to say it was dreadfully unpleasant for both of us.

Got him back to bed and collapsed on his couch, feeling like jumping into my car and fleeing. I’m not proud of that, but that’s how I felt. Seeing him like this for so long was freaking me out. But I stayed.

Later, I went out to get myself some dinner and bring back something for him. Got him some miso soup, some Pepto-Bismol and a thermometer. He woke up for a little while, long enough for me to get some Pepto, some Tylenol and a bowl of soup into him. And some grapes. For whatever reason, he can’t get enough grapes. Took his temp — 101.5. Not as bad as it’s been, but still up there, since his normal temp is low, around 97-point-something, just as mine is.

Slept on his couch — well, tried to, anyway. He woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, and then, sick as he was, he brought me blankets. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I didn’t need them, I was already too hot — just said thank you, and discreetly pushed the blankets back off after he went back to bed.

Today, I thought I’d get him squared away with a light lunch and then head home, but he said he was a little better and wanted to go out. Took his temp again — Normal! Hallelujah! He wanted to take a shower, but when he first got in, he fumbled with the sprayer, dropped it and got water all over the bathroom floor. I knelt down to sponge it up and he snapped at me that I was doing it wrong and missing spots. Finally he yelled at me to stop, grabbed the sponge and did it himself. Then he apologized profusely for yelling at me.

He managed to eat his breakfast, albeit very slowly. He alternated between pulling on two jackets and then taking them both off, then putting them on again. At least the food didn’t get his intestines in an uproar. Got him home and helped him prepare everything to bring to his office in the morning. Yes, he was going to work. He hasn’t been exercising and he can barely eat, but he still goes to work. If he doesn’t go to work, that means he’s no longer among the living. So I made a list for him of things to remember, because in his febrile state he’d forget them otherwise. Once I’d done everything I could think of, I finally took off, leaving him to sleep and going home where I could get some sleep myself. He promised me that if he didn’t start to turn around this week, he’d go back to Kaiser. It’s been nearly a month.

Got about 2/3 of the way home and realized I left my overnight bag there. Turned around and went back. By the time I got back to his place, I was beyond frazzled. “Hey, you’re not supposed to be in worse shape than I am,” he joked. He insisted repeatedly that I had been wonderful this weekend and he couldn’t have managed without me. I don’t think I was wonderful… I was a nutcase. Where do people get the fortitude to be caretakers? I don’t have it. I can’t do a thing for my mother, and I’m not much better with J.

Still had to run errands, get my own groceries, and of course heading back from his place the second time, there was an accident and traffic came to a standstill. We all poked along at about 10-15 miles an hour, the setting sun blinding us.

Home, sweet home. Unpacked my stuff and fell into bed, and was out like a light for a little over an hour. Now, I’m catching up with email and enjoying the peace and solitude.

Tomorrow? Another dose of stress release. Thank goodness. It couldn’t be more timely.

Yes, I know, I’m perverse and twisted. I’m looking forward to pain. But with this pain comes a blissful relief. My mind shuts off and my body sings and thrums with endorphin surge. If I’m addicted, then so be it. Spanking won’t pickle my liver or fry holes in my brain. Or bankrupt me. As addictions go, it’s quite innocuous. 🙂

Hope everyone is enjoying their long weekend.

Friday Hodgepodge + Question

No CHoS today — I think I scared all the pervs away last week. 🙂  Not to worry, they’ll be back, I’m sure.

A bright spot in my Friday morning — I got Chrossed! Again! Two weeks in a row! That’s never happened before. Funny, I was just chatting with Craig last night about how some people write such creative and cool blogs that they get Chrossed week after week. This truly is the holy grail for spanking bloggers, folks. barely pink commented to me recently — I can’t remember the exact quote, but it was something along the lines of, “You know someone is important when their name has become a verb.”

Side note: My entry that got Chrossed was the one about stress relief. This week, Devlin O’Neill also blogged about spanking as stress relief — from a top’s point of view. He got Chrossed as well. Excellent!

I’m not going to J’s tonight. We decided that there’s no point in my driving 30+ miles in Friday traffic to his place, just to watch his TV while he sleeps. (sigh) Instead, I will go there tomorrow morning after he’s had a good night’s rest and take him to lunch, spend the rest of the weekend. In every cloud there is a silver lining; we get to pass on taking his mother to lunch tomorrow, as we did last Saturday. Yes, I’m a bitch. :-Þ  For God’s sake… I see my mother once every couple of months; we take J’s mother to lunch every single weekend. Plus, she has three other grown kids, all local, who visit her and take her out as well. J can miss a couple of Saturdays.

Well, at least I get another dose of Stress-B-Gone on Monday. New Guy has the day off and is coming over that afternoon. He says he might even consider taking me out for a bite to eat if I’m a good girl. I guess I’ll starve. 😀

Tomorrow, October 9, would have been John Lennon’s 70th birthday. Seventy??? Un-freaking-believable. He’ll always be a cheeky young “moptop” to me. The man who I said I would marry when I grew up (hey, I was six). The man whose death made me cry for two weeks. Happy birthday, John. And happy 35th birthday to Sean Ono Lennon, John’s Beautiful Boy, also born October 9.

Question for you guys, along the lines of Chross’s recommendations — what makes you read a blog? There are so, so many of them out there. I don’t know where Chross finds the time to read them all during each week to choose his list, but how about the rest of you? What draws you? Pictures? Stories? Stuff about the spanking video industry? Real-life D/D households? Humor? Which blogs do you read regularly, and why?

On that note, have a great holiday weekend, y’all.

Edginess

It’s official — Mother Nature has lost her mind. A week ago Monday, it hit 113 degrees in downtown Los Angeles. And it could have been higher, but we’ll never know. The National Weather Service thermometer downtown, which has been keeping the temperature since 1877, broke at 1:00 p.m.

A week later? Cool, cloudy, rainy. Last night, I actually put on a bathrobe.

And by this weekend? Supposed to be back up into the 80s and 90s, and absolutely bone-dry. Blech.

For the moment, it’s gray and cloudy. My window is open, and all is blissfully quiet save for the drizzle coming down and the occasional car sloshing by. My favorite kind of day. I’m still feeling some pleasant residual soreness from Monday night. Yesterday, I got the last of my dental work over with, and amazingly, my teeth aren’t hurting today. I should be quite serene right now.

But I’m not. I’m edgy and nervous, feeling that free-floating anxiety that plagues me sometimes. I’m worried about J. Yes, it’s stupid. He has the flu. Granted, it’s a really bad flu. But he’ll get better. I hope. See? There I go again. Of course he’ll get better.

Yesterday was his birthday; I spoke with him last night. He sounded horrible; no better than he was last weekend. I hurt for him.

This coming weekend, we had plans. We have an annual ritual with a dear friend; each year, she gangs my birthday with J’s and takes us out for dinner. We usually go back to her place afterward for coffee and birthday cake, and she fusses over us. Last year, she took us to a Groundlings show. Today, she emailed me to confirm… and I had to write back to her and postpone. I know he won’t be well enough by Saturday to enjoy himself, and I don’t want her putting out money and effort when it will be wasted. God, I hated doing that. I was so looking forward to seeing her.

Here’s how crazy I am, kids. In my worried state, my mind starts to wander into projection, into future nightmares. This is what getting old looks like. This is what we have to look forward to; one thing after another. If your body doesn’t fall apart, your mind disintegrates, or vice versa. And if you’re lucky enough to stay healthy, then you end up being a caretaker to someone else.

Jesus! Am I a freaking mess, or what? No wonder I need stress-relief spankings.

Sorry to be such a downer. I thought about posting something else, coming up with some sort of interesting and controversial topic, but you know what? Fuck it. This is where I’m at today. This blog is nothing if not honest. This is Erica, tears and fears, self-centerness and all.

I will stay in the moment. Breathe deep, and listen to the rain. Feel the peace of this day. After all, this moment is all we have; the rest is unknown. And that’s probably what drives me the craziest… but I won’t think about it. Thinking is not good for me sometimes.

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