And so it goes

Hello, everyone. Sorry for the absence.

After much thought, going back and forth, changing my mind and then back again, I have decided it’s time to bring this blog to an end.

I have been in the spanking scene for twenty-one years this month, and online for nineteen. I have watched many changes in what became known as social media. In the early days for spanking chat and exploration, there were what was known as newsgroups, and various chat rooms. Often the latter devolved into a bunch of silly cyber spanking, but one could find intelligent conversation if one looked carefully. Then, around 2000, give or take a year, those gave way to chat forums, such as those on MSN and Yahoo, the old Shadow Lane chat board, etc. People posted and chatted and shared and connected. I co-managed a successful forum for a few years and had a blast.

When the forums began to run their course, they were overtaken by a new phenomenon: the spanking blog. Soon, everyone and their second cousin twice removed was blogging. I joined this bandwagon in 2005, on what used to be the hopping place (!): MySpace. My blog there straggled along for a while, trying to find its audience, but there was so much competition. But then two things happened. One, I was listed by our blog queen, Bonnie, who made a point of spotlighting new blogs in her “In With the New” column. Things really picked up for me after that, but I still had a second holy grail to achieve. The buzz in the blogosphere was about a gentleman who went by the name of Chross, who had a weekly list of what he considered the most notable blog posts. If one was lucky enough to be “Chrossed,” they would be treated to a highly gratifying spike in blog hits. But how did one get on Chross’s radar, I wondered? I finally grew so frustrated that I wrote a post called “Who Do I Have to @#$% to Get on Chross’s List?” Apparently, that got his attention. 🙂

After that, wow. Views, comments, etc. skyrocketed. Until MySpace died, and I took the plunge and started a new blog on Blogger in 2010. I flourished there for years, getting Chrossed often, sharing adventures and party stories and photos and scenes and video shoots, as well as bits and pieces of my personal life. When Blogger threatened to censor or shut down all their “adult” blogs, I migrated to WordPress. Turns out it wasn’t necessary, since Blogger backed off, but I don’t regret it.

However, things changed yet again. Slowly but surely, the spanking blog was overtaken by the Tumblr blogs: pictures. Lots and lots and lots of pictures. The lengthy blog entry morphed into quickie sound bites, gifs and jpegs. Comments became likes and reposts. The spanking models, who all used to blog, now opened Tumblr accounts. Twitter came to be, and now, instead of writing party and shoot reports, people tweeted the action as it was happening. There were some exceptions who maintained their popularity (Hermione and Ronnie come to mind, as well as some of the DD/Hoh blogs and some author blogs) but it seemed that overall, the traditional written spanking blog had gone the way of the VCR and the variety show.

Even so, I figured as long as I had stories to tell, experiences to share, connections to make, I’d have an audience. For quite a while, my views remained high thanks to being Chrossed often. But now, it seems even our beloved Chross has given up the ghost. And the annual Spanking Blogg Awards, put together by John Osborne of Triple A, finally eliminated the Best Creative Blogger category last year because it wasn’t getting any nominations. I was lucky enough to win second place in 2015, that award’s final year.

After many years and thousand of words, kids, I’m fresh out of things to say. On topic, anyway. I don’t want to hash and rehash the same discussions; there’s FetLife for that. Scene-wise, things have changed for me. I no longer have a top, and I haven’t played since 50 Freaks in February. I go to two parties a year. I do not shoot anymore, and even if someone were to offer it up, I’m not sure I would do it. I don’t enjoy looking at myself on film anymore — those HD cameras are not kind! And as for my personal life, I have been dealing with a great deal of grief and challenges over the past few months, including an ongoing situation with John that is stressful and scary. But you know, I don’t want to go into that on here anymore either. I have ranted, raved, wept, opened up and laid myself bare (physically and emotionally) in these posts over the years. I think it’s time for that to end. Everyone has problems; they don’t want to hear mine. And if I can’t post on-topic fun stuff, there’s really no point in continuing.

Also, I made the mistake, in a time of weakness, of writing political posts on here. Please. Can we all agree that there’s enough of that shit out there everywhere you look? I mean, really — using a spanking blog, of all things, to push one’s political agenda is arrogant, self-serving and a big waste of time, don’t you think? So I do apologize for that bit of foolishness.

I am not taking this blog down. I want to preserve it, because I’m proud of it. I would like people to be able to refer back to it, reread posts they liked, enjoy the pictures, etc. My life, my heart and my soul are in these pages. So it will remain intact, even though I won’t be adding to it any longer. I will always be grateful for my readers, all the comments, all the feedback. Without you guys, we writers might as well be talking to ourselves. And hey, I even appreciate those hapless dumbasses who gave me so much wonderful CHoS fodder. One more for the road? Sure, why not…

Hi I would like to spanking you hardly but it is turning me on and in the end which will be not short time I would like to have sex or atleast blowjob becouse I don’t want go away horny and I don’t want jerkoffing if you are okay with that or you have some other way to make e come and relax after when I spanking you hard and long tell me

(sigh) Some things never change, I guess. I suggest you come the way you always do — in your mama’s basement in front of your sticky keyboard. And for the last time, fuck off.

I don’t get as much of this nonsense nowadays, but I still see it. Recently, Alex got a critique on her Tumblr that she is neglecting to post pictures of her anus. She’s nicer than I am: I would have replied that if this person wants to see an asshole, they should look in a mirror.

Some of you have my antiquated (but still functional) AOL address. My gmail address is at the end of the About Me section here. I’m still out there, on Facebook, Twitter and FetLife. I have always welcomed polite and civil correspondence (and no, you do not have to agree with me, just don’t be a dick about it), and that will not change.

So what should be my last gasp? Perhaps I’ll just say screw it and reveal all… my real name, my family, the TV shows they worked on…

…

…

…

wait for it…

…

…

…

ready?

…

…

…

Come on, you didn’t really think I’d tell all that, did ya? Besides, I wanted to go out on a Big Bang. 😛

And so this hard-edged, tender-hearted, snarky spanko bids you farewell, in this venue at least. Have a great life, y’all. ♥ ♥ ♥  Thank you for reading.

Friday odds and ends

MIA again — busy! All work and no play is making Erica very dull. I haven’t seen Steve in two weeks, but I’ve been so work-crazed, I really didn’t have proper time for him anyway. In fact, I actually had to turn down a girls’ night out with Alex and SpankCake last week, which sucked! But life interferes with one’s fun. But fun is coming next week! Shadow Lane, here we come (leaving next Friday morning). I’ve already arranged for a work break, so my plate will be cleared.

Meanwhile, how about some weird search phrases for your Friday amusement?

First — folks, my name isn’t that complicated. Really, it isn’t. So why did I find these in my search phrases?

earica scott

euricka scott

jane erika scott

EAR-ica? Really?? I know I have big ears, but that’s just mean. :-Þ

For those who like it rough:

belt spanking video not for the squeamish brutal

dress down brutal girl belt spanking stories!

That last one especially confuses me. Is the belt spanking brutal, or is the girl brutal? And is her dress down, or does she get dressed down? And why the ! ?

I can’t resist spanking my gf

What do you want, my permission?

my boyfriend spanking to red ass desi story

WTF is a desi story? Lucyyyyy! You got some spankin’ coming!

And while we’re on weirdness, I got a bizarre tweet last night. Some guy I don’t know, has a really creepy profile, clicks “like” on a bunch of my tweets. OK, fine. But then he tweets to me:

I love you erica. Thought u wuz dead.

The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated. I’m not THAT old, for Christ’s sake!

Anyway… so last Friday, I had a bit of a meltdown. I was overwhelmed with work, John was having major problems with his own work, I’ve been having computer issues, and I was so stressed out, one side of my face had broken out in hives. (Either that or something or things bit me — I never did figure out what it was. It went away after a few days.) I seriously considered cancelling Shadow Lane — it seemed like too much work and hassle to prepare for, I didn’t have time, I wasn’t in the right head space, blah blah blah. Fortunately, when I went to John’s that night, he convinced me that we’d be OK, everything would work out, and we really do need the getaway. “When am I going to get stuff done for the party?” I asked. “I’ve been so slammed with work, I haven’t even had a chance to go shopping.”

“Let’s go to the mall tomorrow!” he suggested. “I need pants, and we can shop for a dress for you.” And so we did; we made an afternoon/evening of it. And what did John do? He picked the perfect dress for me, straightaway. We walked into H&M, and there were some dresses at the front of the store. He plucked one off the rack and said, “This is it.” I demurred, saying we should look at everything else, so we wandered through the store and selected a few more items. But in the dressing room, it was clear… the dress he’d chosen was THE dress. He zipped me into it and it fit perfectly, looked fabulous. “Who knows you better than you know yourself?” he teased. “Who’s the perfect boyfriend who picked the perfect dress?” I also managed to slip into a store this week and buy some new panties, so I am set.

My enthusiasm for the party has been restored. And so, I am looking forward to next week. Monday, something special is happening, but I don’t want to jinx it so I’m not going to talk about it until after the fact. Tuesday, John and I will have been together for twenty years (the Shadow Lane trip is our celebration). And then we head off early Friday morning for three days of spanko debauchery with our friends. I need to play. I need to laugh. I need this so, so much.

But for now, I still have work to do, including some more of that nasty medical stuff. However, thanks to my most excellent computer tech friend Jesse, I now know how to set placeholders for the photos, so instead of those disgusting images, all I see are plain white boxes. 😀  And unfortunately, it does seem that my computer needs a new hard drive, but that can wait until I come back. It’s still working, and every time it’s crashed so far, I’ve been able to fix it with Disk Check, so fingers crossed.

Life is good today. Have a great weekend, y’all.

OT: My family

A comment was made to me recently. I don’t think it was intended to bother me, but it did anyway. Something along the lines of how I’m trying to drive you all nuts with my tease about who my family is.

Not my intention, and I’m sorry if it comes off that way.

Here’s the deal, for those who haven’t been following me for a while: I have three family members who are/were in show business. My father and cousin — TV writers/producers. My stepmother (the nice one, not the evil one) — an actress/dancer. I spoke of all three of them at length in my book, and have mentioned them many times in my blog. But I’ve never given their names. Why?

First, although I’m fairly open about who I am and what I do, I still don’t feel like being outed to the world. My father passed away in 1998 and most people under a certain age don’t remember who he was anyway. But to tell his name would give away my real name. My cousin and stepmother are very much alive, and mentioning either of their names would tie back to my father.

Second, while I’m not ashamed of what I do, I know it’s not widely accepted. And if I were to mention my family members’ names on here, that would mean that if anyone Googled them, my blog would come up in the search. “Whoa! Look at the kinky skeleton in so-and-so’s family closet!” Think of the embarrassment and awkwardness this could incur, for everyone involved. The consequences could be far-reaching. It’s not worth it.

Am I dying to share more information, stories, names? You bet. I’m very proud of these people. Even though their era is bygone and their names would mean nothing to most of my younger friends, I still wish I could reveal more. My father and cousin won nine Emmys between them. My stepmother was a stunningly beautiful and talented woman, one I often wished was my real mother.

So yeah. I tell the stories that I can, when I can. I love wearing the necklace my stepmother wore for 50 years, that was given to her by Jerry Lewis in 1962. I love that my dad co-wrote a sketch that is considered one of the funniest in TV history. I love that my cousin created indelible TV characters. But that’s all I can and will say. It is not my intent to tease or be obnoxious. It is my expression of pride, and my yearning to tell more. Because every time someone compliments my writing or tells me that I’m funny, I give a silent thank you to my DNA, the genetic talent passed on to me. Because there is a lot more to me than the spanky stuff. Mind you, I’m proud of that too. But it’s not all there is.

Who knows. Maybe when I’m older, everyone in question has passed on, and none of it matters anymore, I’ll say “screw it” and reveal it all. And then most people will say “Who??” and it will be rather anticlimactic. 🙂

Have a great weekend, y’all.

And so this is Christmas

Eve, anyway. It’s 11:30 PM on December 24. I am having a quiet night at home, trying to get over some sort of stomach bug that’s been plaguing me. I thought this would be a good moment to stop by and update you all.

I won’t get into all the details, because they are tedious and gross and depressing, but the infection on John’s thumb turned into a real nightmare. Briefly — two urgent care visits, two ER visits, one MRI and one lancing later, we spent the day in the hospital yesterday, getting his thumb biopsied. The MRI showed a mass. Unfortunately, they couldn’t determine what the mass was. It could have been anything from a pocket of gunk from the infection to a harmless cyst to a benign tumor… to melanoma. John has had melanoma before, so he is considered high-risk. Thus the taking of half his nail and a chunk of his thumb yesterday. The doctor told both of us that he believes in preparing for the worst-case scenario. So of course, all we’ve been thinking about for the past week is cancer, and John needing to have his thumb cut off to the first joint if it is.

And Steve has a stubborn staph infection in his nose that is so relentless, he’s been on four types of antibiotics and has seen several specialists. I have not seen him in three weeks. And I have had nothing left over from worrying about John to be supportive to him. I feel bad about that.

So. After I got John home safely last night, with all his meds, food, etc., and his assurance that he would be OK, I came home and collapsed. And the only time I left the apartment today was to take out the trash and get the mail.

But tomorrow, I’ll go be with John. We’ll have presents. We’ll have a nice dinner (if I can eat it). We’ll be together. And he has a follow-up appointment on Tuesday, where we’ll learn the results of the biopsy. The doctor spoke to me after the procedure; he was cautiously positive. If the biopsy shows nothing, then nothing else needs to be done. John’s thumb is splinted and bandaged; it’s going to be a mess for a while, but it will heal and his nail will grow back.

Part 1 of my root canal is over and was uneventful, aside from my being so terrified, I nearly passed out. Part 2 (and hopefully the last of it, if things go well) will be next Thursday. With the root canal I had three years ago, part 2 was when things went wrong and it had to go into a third installment. I’m hoping that won’t be the case this time.

Last Monday feels like it was a month ago, but it was a happy night. I had plans with my girls Alex and SpankCake to have a holiday dinner, as well as a belated birthday celebration for SC. With John’s situation, I thought I might have to cancel, but he insisted that I go, and even though he had to see the doctor that day, he got there on his own. Said I needed their support… and I really did. So the three of us had dinner and cake and our usual lively chatter, and exchanged presents. They bought me a joint gift — an utterly gorgeous, plush throw blanket from Nordstrom. I couldn’t stop touching it, and as soon as I got home, I bundled into it and took a picture. (Sorry for my phone’s crappy selfie quality.)

And in the midst of all this craziness, where spanking is the last thing on my mind, a nice compliment. The Spanking Blogg Awards 2015 continue, and the nominations for Lifetime Achievement were posted. There are two categories — video producers and spankees — and I was nominated in the latter. Please go check it out here, and if you’re so inclined, cast your votes. Only takes a couple of seconds. 🙂

I’m going to sleep now. All cynicism and grumpiness aside for a moment, I wish all of you a happy holiday, whatever you may be doing. Go be with people you love, or spend time with your pets, or whatever your heart desires. Life is too short to spend time doing tedious crap with people who don’t make you happy.

♥ ♥ ♥  Good night.

Epic rants — yes, plural

You lucky people. I have two things that are pissing me off right now. No, it’s not anything about the holidays, and it’s not stupid gross food. One issue is on topic, and the other is not. But both have gotten under my skin lately and it’s time to release a bit. Warning: controversy ahead. If you’d just as soon skip it, I understand.

Last Friday, I saw two pictures that had just been put up on FetLife. The first was an extreme closeup of one butt cheek, with the skin broken and bleeding. The caption read: “Results of a proper caning.” Really? And then the next photo was the same butt, mercifully a little farther back but still pretty damn close up, so you could see both cheeks, which were not just red, but had white spots, the beginnings of bruises, and two spots that were bleeding. And that caption read: “A proper bare-bottom belting.”

Proper? According to whom, pray tell? And of course, we viewers are left to infer that anything less than a spanking/strapping/caning resulting in blood is somehow less than “proper.”

I know, I know, I’ve talked about this before. I’m sick of death of the comments, the implication that bottoms who don’t get trashed beyond recognition are wimps. “That’s not red enough.” “I could have done a better job.” “Looks like a decent warm-up, now bring on the spanking.” Fuck these people! When did it become not enough to simply have a nice red backside? Why is it that with some folks, bottoms that look like they’d been plunked on a George Foreman grill, turned up high, are the holy grail??

Hmm. I’ve been caned dozens of times over the years, by many tops. But I’ve never had a cane break my skin. What a shame that I’ve never had it done properly, huh? (massive eye roll)

This follows along with the issue that John Osborne and I felt compelled to shoot a harsher, more intense video, because viewers were bitching and snarking about our last two being “too light.” What is with this freaking blood-lust going on with spanking video watchers? So OK, we shot a video where John was punitive, and I shed tears. It was well done and I trust John, and I felt comfortable going there with him. Still, it’s irksome that we had to go there, to cave in and cater to the damn barbarians out there. I get it, though. If you’re in the business of selling video, you need to do what sells. But for God’s sake, stop criticizing people’s work. If you don’t like a video because it’s lighter than you care for, then go watch something else. But don’t try to shame and ridicule people’s efforts just because they fall short of your desires for rear carnage.

Here’s my gripe, in a nutshell. You want to play hard? Have at it. You want to bleed? Knock yourself out. If that floats your boat, then you can deal with the aftermath, and more power to you. But goddammit, don’t try to make others feel like what they’re doing isn’t good enough, or “proper” enough, because their flesh isn’t ravaged to your liking. What happens when newbies see these photos, claiming this sort of extreme is “proper”? I can see it now: inexperienced tops thinking they’re pussies, and they need to up their game in order to create these torn-up asses. And naive bottoms thinking they are “less than” because they don’t take this degree of punishment, and therefore should feel some sort of scene shame. Ridiculous.

Can’t we just play like we want to play, and leave words like “proper” and “real” and “true” out of it?

Ugh.

OK, that’s one. The next one is bound to piss some people off, and I’m sorry but not sorry. I don’t go out of my way to offend, but sometimes, you know, I just can’t avoid it.

Found this little gem on Facebook, of all places:

It’s true. The NRA and the 2nd Amendment advocates fight to the death (literally) against gun controls/stricter gun laws, but when it comes to women and what they do with their own bodies, oh, that’s everyone’s effing business.

I am not anti-gun. I don’t think guns should be eliminated. But clearly, with so many psychos out there shooting people, with terrorists killing groups of innocent folks, things are out of control. There needs to be something, and I don’t know what it is, but we can’t keep going on like this. But for everyone who says something needs to be done about guns and the fact that far too many nuts can get their hands on them, there’s another who says gun control is not the answer, and we just need more guns. That the people in Paris should have had guns. That the Jews in the Holocaust should have had guns, for Christ’s sake. That we should have guns in school classrooms.

This kind of killing goes on and on and on, and somehow, it’s left unregulated. Men, women, children. Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, spouses, all manner of loved ones. Meanwhile, women are vilified and shamed and criminalized because they choose to expel a tiny splotch of ectoplasm that is undeveloped and completely unviable. This is a sin. This is murder. This must be eliminated. Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.

Recently, our country’s Senate did two things: they refused to pass a bill that would prevent people on the no-fly list from getting guns. At the same time, they passed a bill that would defund Planned Parenthood. Yeah, that makes sense too. Let’s not control the crazies with guns that destroy lives, but by all means disallow women from choosing whether or not they give birth.

You know, I don’t even have a dog in this fight. I am way past the child-bearing age. And when I was that age, I made damn sure that I wouldn’t have any, because I knew I didn’t want them and I didn’t want to deal with birth control. But it still pisses me off that younger women out there might lose their freedoms, and if not those freedoms per se, then all the funds available to make their choices. Look…it’s not that I’m a big advocate of abortion. I’m much more of an advocate of people being responsible and smart with their bodies, and not getting pregnant unless they want to. But I have always felt strongly about the right to choose. And I also happen to think it’s a sin in itself to bring a child into the world when you’re neither financially nor emotionally equipped to raise it properly. When I was in eighth grade (a long-ass time ago), I wrote a school paper titled: “Abortion: Better No Life Than Unwanted Life.” I got an A. And I still believe that. How come it’s OK to go ahead and have the kid, just to abuse and neglect it, or not give it the opportunities it deserves because it has a passel of siblings that were also unplanned?

So here’s my solution for the gun-loving anti-abortionists: Every time you see a woman about to have an abortion, shoot her! That way, you 1. get to use your precious guns; 2. prevent an abortion; and 3. eliminate a killer. Win-win-win! Of course, you’re also killing an unborn baby along with its murderous mom, but hey, collateral damage, right?

Yes, that was written with tongue firmly crammed in cheek, and a series of swallows against vomiting in disgust.

Yeah, I’m pissed off. You know why I rant? You know why I blog and vent? Because I can. Because I choose to blow off steam this way, instead of going out and taking my frustrations out on innocent victims. Because I know how to channel my anger like a sentient and sane adult. I’m just so damn sick of people who kill and hurt and maim and do stupid shit to other people. And I’m sick of the people who cheer those fuckers on, one way or another.

(sigh) I know this writing isn’t going to change a thing. But sometimes, I need to do it anyway. Because if I keep it all inside, I just get depressed, and that really sucks. I am trying to keep my sanity during times where there is insanity all around me.

Rants over, for now. I will try to be entertaining next time.

Reality, you stink

OK, I know life isn’t a spanking party. But it’s especially sucky when you come back from such extreme escapism and reality backhands you (and not in a fun way).

As I’d mentioned before, my checking account got compromised and I had to close down my old account and start a new one. Unfortunately, I’d already written and sent out five checks on the old account that hadn’t cleared yet. While I was at the bank taking care of this mess, they had me fill out a form, authorizing them to “force-post” these five checks, even though the account was closed. They assured me the checks would go through and I wouldn’t hear any more about it.

Wrong.

Only one out of the five checks got posted. The rest stayed denied, and in the past few days, I’ve gotten late notices (and late fees). I’ve been on the phone a lot, calling the various companies, explaining, putting the unpaid bills on my credit card, talking to the bank. Oh, and the new checks they sent me? They made a mistake on them, so I have to reorder them. Meh.

Because of pipe leakage, I had water damage in both my bedroom and bathroom. Yesterday, the guy came and plastered up the holes in my bedroom ceiling. Then the manager said, “The painter is coming in the morning to repaint your bathroom.”

Normally, that would be great news. But I haven’t seen Steve in nearly a month, and he was finally going to be visiting me. This morning.

Can you say “bad timing,” boys and girls?

This morning, when it was clear that the paint job was going to take several hours, I had to call Steve and tell him not to come, which was damned hard. It was like being so very hungry, starved, even, and knowing a sumptuous feast was about to be delivered… and then it wasn’t.

I miss Steve. I miss his hands, his strong arms, his voice. His quiet strength. His calm. And I have absolutely no right to complain; his life has been upended in recent weeks, losing his business, and his future is uncertain at this point. The last thing he should have to concern himself with is me. And yet he does. He says he misses me, too. This morning was going to be a respite for both of us, and neither one of us knew when the next time would be.

Anyway. The bathroom is done; it took about four hours. I went in to sweep the copious quantities of plaster dust, and of course managed to bump up against the wall, getting paint all over the back of my shorts. Idiot! Fortunately, I was able to scrub it out. Oh, and with all this other stuff going on, I completely forgot to mail out my quarterly estimated taxes, so I had to make a panicked, last-minute run to the post office. I am just too damned frazzled, and I need stress release. But it’s not going to come in its preferred form, I’m afraid.

Blech. Well, on the plus side, at least my bathroom looks really nice. And I’m getting work done. John is in good spirits. The heatwave has broken. Yes, I am pathetically attempting to be positive and all that happy perky shit.

Oh, who am I kidding? I’m grumpy and weepy and I just ate way too damn much peanut butter straight from the jar. 😦 I’m missing Steve, and I’m missing my friends. It is what it is.

Onward. Back to work.