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 “New Year”

2021…

… can go fuck itself with a 2 x 4. Sideways. With nails sticking out of it.

I was all prepared to post something altogether different for the last day of the year. Following the example of other bloggers doing top tens and favorites lists, I was going to write up my favorite things that tops say and do, with plenty of pictures. It was going to be sexy, sassy, and fun.

But today, Betty White died. The internet exploded in grief. And so did I. And I no longer give a rat’s ass about ending 2021 on a happy, positive note. Because it’s impossible, and to try to pretend otherwise would be disingenuous.

Look, I know she was ninety-nine years old. Even though she was a much-beloved national treasure and we all wished she’d live forever, she had a good long life. But what I cannot stand is that it was a mere eighteen days before her 100th birthday. A day that promised celebration, commemoration, live streams of Betty herself, retrospectives, the sheer joy of this incredible woman reaching such a milestone. That as I write, the goddamn newsstands are plastered with copies of the latest People magazine, with Betty smiling joyfully on the cover and the headline, “Betty White Turns 100!” Ugh.

Eighteen fucking days. But no. 2021 had to have one last punch to the gut. This miserable year had to send us all out in tears.

Yeah. I know that New Year’s Eve is the day we reflect, we think about the past year, our accomplishments, the good things that happened, things we’re grateful for. Ring out the old, ring in the new. You know what? Fuck that.

Tomorrow a new year begins. I’ll be with the man I love. I’ll take a few deep breaths, dry my eyes, and do my damnedest to look forward. To hope for better days. But right now, I’m angry, I’m sad, I’m crying. I hate life’s random cruelty, its inherent unfairness. I am beside myself with grief over all the sadness and pain of this past year. And I’m just going to let myself wallow in it for this one day.

Monday, January 3, will be a reset. On that day, I’m seeing Chris (I hope; there is a concern about snowstorms and a 12-hour drive probably should wait until better weather). Not only will it start my year off with a good experience, with something I need with all my heart and soul, it will help erase the utterly shitty play experience I had in recent months that left me feeling so lousy. It will restore my faith that there are men out there who get me, who know what I need and want, who want the same, who know how to deliver it. I told him I was worried about his drive, but he said he just got new snow tires and he’s very confident that it will go fine.

But right now, I am more than ready to kiss this year goodbye. Fuck off, 2021. Fuck off, Covid, Delta, Omicron, and all your other goddamn variants. Fuck off, anti-vaxxers who are keeping this pandemic going. Fuck off, Q-Anon and GOP. Fuck off, MAGAts. Fuck off, gun nuts. Fuck off, wildfires and all the other casualties of climate change, and the people who don’t want to cooperate with trying to save the planet. Fuck off, deaths of beloved icons. Fuck off, bazillionaires playing around in space while zillions are homeless. Go right to hell, every last one of you.

(sigh) And to my friends… I’m sorry. I really wanted this last post of the year to be better, funnier, happier. I still love you all, and wish the very best for you. Please take care, be safe, and hug your loved ones.

See you on the other side.


My sentiments exactly

Thought I’d keep the last post of the year short and snarky. What else is there to say, really? I could reflect on the year, as many of us do, but I’m just too tired. I want to move on. I want life back. I want to see friends again, play again, go out to eat again, hug people again, pet dogs again. I want whole days, even weeks without crying again. I want to feel safe in my own damn country again.

So. To everyone who is still with me — thanks. Wishing us all a better 2021. ♥ Please be safe.

Happy 2020

Happy New Year, everyone. I hope everyone had safe, happy and healthy holidays. Mine were quiet, exactly as I wanted them. Now it’s time to get back into work mode.

Also, it’s time for a fresh start, to dip my toes tentatively back into the scheme of things. I can’t believe it’s been nearly a year since I wrote Notes on the Scene. Back then, I was coming from a place of sadness, hurt and disillusionment. Now, after coming out the other side of an ocean of tears, I think I’m more in a place of clarity. This past year opened my eyes to many things, and I will never again look upon the kink scene as I once did. However, I feel like I can now start to take back what’s good, and leave the rest.

To that end, I reactivated my FetLife account after being off for eleven months. And I plan to go to 50 Freaks in Vegas at the end of February, after a year off from parties. It’s a scary prospect, going back, but there are people I look forward to seeing. As for local play partners, the search continues. But I am hopeful.

For everyone out there reading this who is having a hard time, please hang in there. This time last year, I was going to bed each night and wishing I wouldn’t wake up. But the worst of it seems to have passed. There is a flip side to the darkness. And once again, I recall this expression of hope and comfort: May the depth of your despair be the height of your joy.

So, here’s to a new year, to new beginnings. Because I want to come out from under the covers and get back into this part of who I am. To bring some color back into my life.

DSC00009BW

Cheers. ♥

Another year over…

… a new one just begun.

So I guess this is the time where we reflect on the accomplishments of the past year. Here’s mine.

survive

No small feat, really. It was a tough year, the latter part in particular.

The good news? I have a lot more work. The first half of the year was so slow, I had to dip into savings to pay bills. Now I have more than I can keep up with, which, even though it stresses me out sometimes, I’m happy about.

In other news? I am slowly disappearing.

I spent Thanksgiving at home working. My choice.

I spent Christmas Eve and Day at home, working. Also my choice.

I have not been on FetLife in over a month, and have no desire to return to it. I tweet, and I play games on Facebook. But my online footprint is fading.

I have not played in nearly two months. I miss it. But I don’t push for it, either. Because damned if I’m going to allow myself to appear needy again.

There is a big spanking party coming up end of February. Normally I am counting the days toward this event. This year, I am seriously considering skipping it. I really don’t believe anyone will care whether I’m there or not, and I am having a hard time imagining putting myself out there, making the effort to go. Not when just getting out of bed each day is a Herculean effort.

Did something happen? Yup. What? Sorry. Not going into it. There was actually a buildup of several somethings, but one last thing piled on and my personal house of cards collapsed. Suffice it to say that I am now questioning everything. Who my friends are. Who I can trust. And above all, myself. My instincts in people. My place in things. My worth — not just in this scene, but in this life.

No conclusion jumping, please. John and I are fine. We spent New Year’s Eve together, see? He is my one constant, through it all, through all the comings and goings of others in my life. He stays. He loves me. He keeps me going.

20190101_000559

So, for 2019. With all the talk out there about walls, perhaps it is time to build up my own. Tuck away and protect my vulnerability. Enjoy what I can, when I can, but stay guarded. Because I’m tired of hurting. I just want to be numb.

I truly understand why people drink. Or use drugs. There’s a whole fucking lot to escape in this life. Fortunately — or unfortunately — I need control too much. My heart may be battered, but hey, my liver is in great shape. Guess that’s something.

Anyway. This is where I am. And now I need to get back to work, and back to the gym. Life goes on.

I hope my friends out there had happy, safe holidays. Be kind to each other. Have some extra fun for me.

Correspondence Hall of Shame, End of Year Edition, and more

Greetings, readers. As this will be my last post of 2016, I thought I’d present a hodgepodge of treats for you. So grab a beverage of your choice, whack off a chunk of that stale fruitcake with a hacksaw, and settle in.

First up, a few CHoS entries:

Mmmmmmm
I swear this sounds lile so fucking fun and a turn on
Lolol love it when a women love other thing beside sex 
You do have a sexy ass that should always be SMACK!! Good when that se,y booty is out

Uh… what? I’m sorry, I’m not bilingual; I don’t speak Moronese.

hi cutie, my name is Xxx and we have the same sexual interests.. I enjoy passionate kissing, foreplay, oral sex, anal sex, FWB, LTR, BDSM, role playing and doing anything to please you. I would love to explore every inch of your body with my hands and tongue. I like hard and fast sex, but prefer marathon all night sex.. I may be older than what you are looking for, but age is just a number and PLEASURE, weather it comes from yourself, someone younger, or older, is still PLEASURE. I am always horny and available. If this is what you are looking for, check my profile to see if we match and message me back

I don’t know whose profile you were reading, but it wasn’t mine, since mine said I wasn’t seeking sex. Yes, age is just a number, and so is IQ. Yours, apparently, is in the double digits.

You may have seen this comment before, since it was left right here on this blog. I thought it deserves its own special message. What a shame this person thinks they’re so clever.

I bet you only get spanked on the left side of your ass

Wrong again, Breitbart Breath, as is evidenced by this recent photo:

1gmv1l

And finally, to my special hater out there: Really? You think my last blog was all about little ol’ you? Tsk… now who’s vain, hmmm? My upbringing in the “entertainment world” had nothing to do with my political views — I am a well-educated woman and I have a mind of my own — so you may can the condescending claptrap. But hey, thanks for saying I have a pretty face. I do believe that’s the first time in all these years that you’ve ever said anything nice about me. 🙂

Interesting side note: Someone very close to me — who is a conservative and voted for Trump — read my last blog. He could have been pissy about it, but all he had to say about it was that it’s a funny and satirical piece, and some of the best writing he’s seen from me. How about that. I thanked him for his civility, and he said, “I’m the norm. The people who act like a-holes are the exception.” I’m afraid I disagree with that; I think it’s the other way around. But we’ll see.

Moving on — did you guys miss my annual sniping about fruitcake? Then this is for you. Our ever-trendy coffeehouse, Starbucks, unveiled a Christmas treat this year, available for one week only: the Fruitcake Frappuccino. It was described as a blended iced coffee drink with hazelnut and cinnamon, topped by whipped cream, caramel and matcha (whatever the @#$% that is). What’s fruitcake-y about this, you might ask? Well, also blended into the beverage are bits of dried fruit. That’s right, so you can eat your Frappuccino as well as drink it. It’s creamy! It’s chunky! It’s chewy! It’s disgusting!

And if you’re not already sick, here is a real view of it:

fruitcake

I’m sorry, but this doesn’t resemble anything drinkable to me. It looks like the inside of a Times Square toilet on New Year’s Eve.

Did everyone have a nice holiday? Mine had some pleasant moments, although I was struggling a bit. Earlier this month, Alex and Paul had a lovely little party, and I did my best to get into the spirit, dressing myself up, complete with black stockings that had red bows at the top, red pumps, and a black shirt that had “Naughty” on the front and “Nice” on the back. Last week, Alex, SC and I had a long-overdue girls’ night out, where we chatted for hours and exchanged presents. I got some nice things, including a beautiful, soft and plush robe from Alex, and SC gave me a Lego set… to build the Yellow Submarine! I haven’t played with Legos since I was a kid; this should be fun. But I think my favorite gift was one that came as a surprise in the mail: it was from Lily Starr, and when I opened it, I smiled, then giggled, then guffawed. It was a crystal pendant… of a snowflake.

I think this might have been the beginning of a turnaround for me. I felt my humor, long dormant, kick back in a bit. And my feistiness. Damn right I’m a snowflake, and I’ll accept that term, meant to be insulting, with pride. In fact, Lily’s gift inspired me to shoot this little video. 🙂 Screw with me, and I’m screwing right back. I may go down in a nuclear holocaust in the coming year or so, but I’m going down laughing.

* * *

Now, if I can be serious for a moment. This has been a brutal year. No, not just because of the obvious, but for so many other miseries befalling people I care about. Job losses, illnesses, broken relationships, getting outed. Deaths… so many deaths. John lost his own closest friend last month, and we are still reeling from that. And this was a terrible year for our beloved icons, with an unbelievable count of losses. Actors. Musicians. Authors. Sports figures. Astronauts. Just this week, we lost Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds, one day apart. Reportedly, Ms. Reynolds’ last words were “I want to be with Carrie” before she had a massive stroke. I guess it is possible to die of a broken heart. My own heart breaks for Todd Fisher, who lost both his sister and mother within 24 hours, and for Billie Lourd, who lost her mother and grandmother. Sometimes life is very cruel.

If you have never seen Singin’ In The Rain, I am telling you to do so. Even if you say you don’t like musicals, see it anyway. It is so much more than song and dance, although those numbers are dazzling, and it’s impressive to watch a 19-year-old Debbie Reynolds, who’d never danced professionally before, holding her own with two of the best dancers of the 20th century. It’s funny, clever, energetic, romantic, and if it doesn’t put a smile on your face and lift your spirits, you might want to check for a pulse.

What’s my point? Life is short. Hold your loved ones close. Hang in there, and do the best you can. I say this as much to myself as I do to my friends. I’m going to put on my rain gear and boots, and plow bravely forward into the crapstorm that 2017 is looking to be, determined to have fun and experience love and joy where I can. May you all do the same.

Have a great weekend, y’all. ♥

So, this happened…

… finally!!

DSC00003

First spanking of 2016, and about damn time, too. We didn’t take pictures this time — we got a late start and had to cut things short — so I took this after he left. Mostly faded, but still pink-ish.

I am out of condition! So is Steve; he admitted that his hand stung. 😀 We need to get back into the regular swing of things (and of his hand).

It’s January 13 already! Feels like it was just Christmas. Oh wait… it was. Never mind.

In other news, I got the final installment of my root canal procedure done yesterday. Hopefully that will be it for the dental work for a while. I’m so over having my jaw pried open with large uncomfortable things crammed in my mouth. (Yes, I phrased it that way purposely, my pervs and pervettes.)

Happy hump day, y’all. Oh… and RIP, David Bowie. ♥

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: