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 “twitter”

Did ya miss me?

I haven’t blogged for a little over a month, so I have a lot of catching up to do. Honestly? What with the insanity around the midterms, mass shootings, displays of antisemitism, and lately, the horrendous fires in my state (still burning), I haven’t really felt the kink mojo. It’s hard to be lighthearted and funny and flippant when it feels like everything around you is devolving into a massive sinkhole of shit. This has been me:

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(OK, my boobs aren’t that big. But whatever.)

However, life goes on and I need to remind myself of that. So here I am.

And I got to play again last week, thank you very much! Much needed stress release! Mr. Woodland paid me another visit, last Thursday (you know, after the Thousand Oaks shooting, but before the Woolsey fire exploded). This time he showed up with his toy bag. Uh-oh.

But never fear, the good Mr. W. started me off with a proper warm-up. At some point, this exchange happened:

Him: Do you prefer your underwear up or down?
Me: That’s up to you.

Although it was more like “That’s up to y—,” because I didn’t even have the word “you” out of my mouth when my panties were unceremoniously yanked to my thighs.

“Well, that was an easy decision,” he said. Humph.

Warm-up passed in the blink of an eye, it seemed. “Time for some implements,” he announced. “Get up, please.”

Well, at least he said please.

We moved to my ottoman, and he said, “Set this up the way you want it.” I protested, “Why me? You set it up last time, so you’d have room to swing.” “Fine,” he said, and nudged it a few inches with his foot — which then sent the cushions askew. “Well, now it’s crooked!” I huffed, leaning down to straighten it.

“I have a belt in my hand,” he said. “Is this really a good time to be a smart-ass?” (What better time is there?)

And so the strapping ensued. At a good breaking point, he went to get his bag. “Let’s see what I’ve got for you in this bag of treats,” he grinned.

I sweetly requested a Snickers bar. He didn’t have any.

I then got to meet several of the items in his bag, including a tawse, some sort of leather thing, and a very thin, light wooden paddle. “This is a sting-y little bastard,” he commented about the latter. “Kind of like you?” I commented in return. He sighed. “That wasn’t smart.”

It was worth it, though. 😀

More chit-chat:

Him: Well, that’s about all I can use for now. The rest [of the bag’s contents] is wood.
Me: (sighing) What’s wrong with you?
Him: I like wood!
Me: That’s what she said.

Damn, did we play hard. I could feel the strength he was putting into it, and I was drinking it in like a freaking desert in a rainstorm. I just wanted more, more, and more. Even the tawse. Normally, I’m leery about those suckers. I have had experiences in the past where one of those skinny little tails snaps into nooks and crannies that I really, really don’t want getting snapped — and I damn near go through the ceiling. But then I took a deep breath and remembered.

He knows what he’s doing.

So much so that when he seemed to be wrapping things up, I blurted, “Are you done??”

“You want more?” he asked.

“Um… maybe?”

He laughed. “Be careful what you wish for…”

Holy crap. That last round pushed my endurance, for sure. I quickly realized my error of not tossing a pillow on the carpet before we started. First, because I was scraping my elbows along the carpet as I leaned over the ottoman. Not my choice of pain. And second, because I didn’t have anything to scream into. And sometimes, you know, I just have to scream. So I ended up clamping both hands over my mouth and screaming into my palms. And all the while, I could feel the stress flowing out my pores, out of my limbs, out of my head. Magic. So lovely when I can just put myself into a man’s hands and know I’m safe. As Mr. W. says on his Fet profile, he might hurt, but he doesn’t harm. Knowing that makes such a difference.

He was impressed. “You can take one hell of a spanking, Erica,” he said. Despite the fact that I was limp as a dishrag and so sub-spacey I could barely think, I managed to croak out, “You know, this is all your fault.”

“Really? How’s that?”

“Because,” I squeaked, “if you hadn’t made me wait three weeks for this, I wouldn’t have been so fucking needy!!

I wish I could have seen the look on his face at that. “Ah… well, I think we’ll have to address that next time.” Yeah, you think?

(I was kidding, of course. I am responsible for my own stress management; no one else. But a helping hand — or strap, paddle, etc. — is most welcome.)

And so we wound down. Then, I heard the two words that always melt me into the final oblivion:

“Good girl.” Of all the sweet phrases we love to hear, I think that’s one of the sweetest. Right up there with “That’s my girl.” 🙂

He hung out with me for a while, but had to get going before the traffic got bad (or worse, really, since L.A. traffic is pretty much always bad now). Have no idea what our schedules will bring over the upcoming holiday weeks… but I hope I get to see him again before 2018 is over.

As soon as he was gone, I thought, “Oh, damn! Pictures!” So, since I was still in living color, I grabbed my phone and tried to take a mirror selfie in the bathroom. I’m embarrassed to admit how many attempts it took to get this:

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I still didn’t like it, but all the physical cogitations were making my back and neck ache worse than my butt. So I broke out the old-school digital camera and timer, and tried a different angle in the living room. Unfortunately, the lighting there didn’t show the red very well. But you get the idea.

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I slept well that night. Sadly, the next day brought all new stress when the damned Woolsey fire blew up and I was worried about my stepmother in Thousand Oaks (all turned out well for her, thank goodness — she was without power for a couple of days, but didn’t have to evacuate). But such is life.

What else is going on… oh, yeah. Did I mention that my Twitter account was frozen for a week? “But, Erica,” I can hear you all crying, “what horrible, egregious, terrible thing did you tweet to earn this extreme penalty??” I called Tomi Lahren a bimbo.

(Never heard of Tomi Lahren? All you need to know about her is that she’s the millennial version of Ann Coulter. And if perchance you don’t know who Ann Coulter is — consider yourself fortunate.)

Let’s review. I’ve been insulted on Twitter over everything from my age (“granny porn”) to my body (“a poor man’s Olive Oyl”) to my face (I was likened to the character “Hatchet-face” from the movie Cry-Baby. Google her) to my background (“stupid @#$%ing Hollywood Jew). I’ve been threatened (“I’d love to watch you getting gang-raped”). But my saying “bimbo” is “hateful conduct”?? Yeah, Twitter. Bite me.

So, when my time in Twitter Jail was up, I put on my prison-stripe panties, brought out the trusty digital camera again, and took this, which I posted the day I came back:

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I hash-tagged it #FuckCensorship. 🙂 Interestingly, I did not get reported and penalized for it. Imagine that.

(whew) Anyway. Work continues to be busy, for which I am grateful, not only for the bill paying but for the distraction. Crazy times, y’all.

Final thought — I wish I could hug every single firefighter in California right now. ♥ ♥ ♥

The State of Erica

So it’s been an interesting few weeks, ones of much soul searching and roller coaster emotions. I’ve learned a few things, made some mistakes. And now I think I’m ready to move forward once again.

One of the mistakes I made was breaking my own promise to myself and allowing politics to pervade my blog, Twitter and Facebook. The events of the past few months have consumed me, as they have many, and I let myself get swept up in venting. The reactions were enlightening and depressing at the same time. I got a lot of backlash, but not necessarily from the opposite polarity. I also was ignored, unfollowed and unfriended by people I least expected to do so. In times of emotional crisis, I find out time and again who cares about Erica, the entire person (even in her darkest, angriest, most unlikable times), and who just wants Erica Scott, the witty, snarky spanko showing off her butt. I find out who my friends are. It’s a painful process, but a necessary one, I guess.

Look, I get it. This is a spanking blog. Politics can be read anywhere, anytime, any place these days, ad nauseam. When one comes to a spanking blog, one wants to read about spanking, yes? Same deal with followers on Twitter and other social media. Therefore, for the bulk of my venting, I have found two secret groups of Facebook (“secret” meaning that posts only show to the group members) where people can share their political concerns and fears. Likewise, I started another Twitter account and when I feel like retweeting the Orange Menace’s stupid posts and adding my own comments, or just want to rant about whatever’s going on, I use that. And as for here, I will not be posting anymore strictly political posts. They get crickets, for one, and then I have to put up with rude rebuttals from the likes of people who are so stupid, they need to be told how to spell their own name. So, it’s back to spanky stuff.

There’s just one problem with that; lately, I simply don’t have spanky stuff to post. I am not going to explain why, so please don’t ask, but I have not played (except for a brief moment at a holiday party) in over three months. My parties are few and far between, and my shoots are pretty much down to once in a great while. And I’m tired of hashing and rehashing the same tired discussions we’ve all seen a million times. Therefore, this blog will probably be periodic rather than regular. When the spirit moves me, when I have something fun and topical to report, I will do so. For example, in a couple of weeks we’re going to a big party in Vegas for a few days, so no doubt I’ll have some fun stories from that. But I’m no longer going to rack my brain trying to come up with things to write. I’ve written and written and written, for years. And lately, I’m (thankfully) so busy with work, I don’t have as much time for blogging anyway. So, when time passes between blogs, don’t fret. I’m still around. I’m just going to be here on a “need to post” basis from now on.

Oh, and mind you, I am not saying that I’ll never slip in some political snarky humor again, here and there. I mean, it’s inevitable, since this entire administration is one big punchline.

And with that, on to my most excellent segue*

Last week, Triple A Spanking released a clip that I shot with them three years ago. In it, John Osborne and I play husband and wife, and we are supposed to go to a gathering given by one of his friends. However, because I cannot stomach this friend, I make up a bunch of lies, including that I’m sick, to get out of going. So, what did John call this film about lying liars?

Yup, he went there… 😀

alternativefacts

(Yes, I edited that last photo. I hate those freaking straight-on shots! Unless you’re a proctologist, you don’t need to be getting up in there.)

I confess, seeing that title made me laugh harder than I had in weeks. So, who used that phrase better? John Osborne…

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… or Crack-Whore Barbie Con-job?

kellyanne

I’d say John Osborne for the win!

So that’s it for now. Back to work with me, and then I’m off to spend the pre-Valentine’s Day weekend with my beloved. ♥ And no, we are not going to see “Fifty Shades Darker”!

Have a great weekend. y’all.

*For those who were educated at Cheeto-face University, that word is pronounced “seg-way,” not “seg-yoo.” 😛

Stress relief, and a runaway bus

OK, kids — no matter what side you’re on, I think we can all agree that this godawful Presidential election, fraught with anger and ugliness, could send anyone in this country to the loony bin. I know that if I’m going to survive, I need stress release, and I need to laugh. Fortunately, I’ve had opportunities for both this week.

First, for the past three days, I’ve been engaging in a war of bratty tweets on Twitter. It started out with Ulf Sayer, Kajira Bound and me, and then it expanded to include Alex Reynolds, Paul Kennedy and Nuna Starks. Ulf had claimed that, because of me, the hashtag #SpankOnSight has become an international necessity. And sometime yesterday, I’ve lost track of who started it, but the hashtag #BlameEricaScott became a thing.

So, I tweeted a photo of myself with a very innocent face, and said, “Who, meeee?” And late last night, Alex tweeted, “YES YOU!!!”

Humph! I then replied to all, “Did anyone get the license plate of that bus I just got thrown under?”

And Miss Alex came back with, “I did! Here you go!” Accompanied by this:

licensees

Well, I never! I am flabbergasted! I am verklempt! Or, to employ my beloved boyfriend’s goyishe interpretation, I am kermufft!

Today, Kajira posted a picture of herself about to be spanked by Ulf, and tweeted that this is what happens every time she talks with or quotes me. To which I said, “You’re welcome.” 😀

But back to stress relief. Steve and I were able to get together for a couple of hours yesterday, and we made good use of it. And finally got some new pictures. For this one, he called out, “Give me your best ‘WTF are you doing??’ face!” Which translated into my signature “righteous indignation” face:

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And then, of course, there’s my “Is that all you’ve got?” face:

20161018_120018

Apparently, it wasn’t all he had.

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Notice that my thighs got a bit of attention too.

All good. I certainly felt a lot more relaxed afterward. And the laughter certainly felt wonderful.

Friends are good things. ♥ Bus tracks on my ass notwithstanding.

Oh no, he didn’t

Hi kids. I’ve been quiet this week, very busy with work. Also, although Steve and I had our four-year anniversary of being play partners and friends this week, we did not get to see each other. He had a job interview on Tuesday, and the rest of the week, I was just so damn busy and stressed, I couldn’t carve out any decent time, or any decent head space, for that matter. So we are shooting for next Tuesday.

However, something happened this week that I think is worth a mention on here.

I am really trying to stay out of the political stuff, y’all. But it’s hard. It’s all over Twitter and Facebook, and we’ve had two conventions in two weeks. I confess, I didn’t watch a single minute of either one. Nor have I watched the evening news. I haven’t even been watching the late-night talk shows — no Jimmy (either one), no Conan, nothing. I’m just so damn tired of hearing about the election.

Still, I tweet and comment about it elsewhere. I can’t live in a bubble, much as I’d like to. The other night, I tweeted about how I’m not watching the convention, that I’ve been watching old TV shows and vintage game shows every night instead, because I need a break. And then I got a tweet back:

“You deserve a severe spanking if you watch the DNC!”

My insides seized up. I couldn’t believe someone went there.

I thought about replying to him, but first, I went to check out his profile. He followed me, I noticed. Why? Then I looked at some of his tweets. OK, he’s a spanko, that’s why. But then I looked at some of the other things he said — horrible, ugly, misogynistic things, rife with the c-word. Ugh. I don’t want this creep following me anyway, so I blocked him without saying anything to him.

However, I then tweeted a general message to anyone who might be watching, just in case:

“To the cretin who said I ‘deserve a severe spanking’ if I watch the DNC: I’ll watch what I damn well please, and get spanked when it suits me.”

I ran out of characters, so I tweeted again:

“Oh, and because I ran out of characters, I must add this: Please go fuck yourself. :-)”

My sexual proclivities and my politics are two separate entities, just like church and state are (or as they should be). Do. Not. Use my spanking fetish as a threat because you don’t like my politics. That is over the line. That is so far over the line that I can’t even see the line anymore.

You don’t like my political leanings/choices? That’s your right and your prerogative. But you do not get to drag spanking into it. That makes me sick. Don’t take what’s fun and sexy and delicious to me and turn it into something icky because you disagree with another core part of my being that’s none of your goddamn business in the first place. If you don’t like me, don’t follow me. Don’t friend me. It’s as simple as that.

A reminder before I post the following: This blog is not about who you’re going to vote for. This post is not about who is better than whom. I have my opinions about that, of course I do, but I’m not talking about that. Please don’t take it in that direction in the comments.

OK, so speaking of combining spanking and politics, I found this today: What do you guys think of it?

trumpspanking

I’m sure everyone recognizes this as the old Chase & Sanborn coffee ad, from back in the day when sexist ads like this were common. Part of me giggled… and then another part of me cringed. This is making fun of what we do. This is taking our fetish and making it look like something creepy, something that bullies and chauvinists and misogynists do to keep their “little women” in line.

Am I taking this too seriously? Or as spankos, does it squick you, too? I’m like, “EW! Leave spanking out of this!” Thoughts?

All right, enough of this. I have to get back to work.

Have a great weekend, y’all. To my friends at the Crimson Moon party in Chicago, have a blast! I can’t wait until I can party with you over Labor Day weekend.

So, what brought this on…

Today, I noticed that my blog views spiked dramatically upward. No complaints, mind you. I haven’t posted since Monday and my views were pretty much dormant. But what could be causing the traffic? I did a scan of the blogosphere — nope, nothing posted that has anything to do with me.

Then I realized… it’s probably from something completely vanilla. Ooopsies! 😀

As I’ve mentioned ad nauseam, I use Erica Scott pretty much everywhere, including Twitter. Several years ago, I connected with and friended “Cousin Barnabas,” who is a fellow Dark Shadows fanatic and has a blog called The Collinsport Historical Society. He knows about my blog, and it didn’t send him running away screaming. In fact, he’s one of my blog followers, and he often “Likes” my tweets. I ♥ open-minded people.

Because Dark Shadows is currently celebrating its 50th anniversary (!!!), he invited several people to write a guest column on his blog about their experiences with the program, when/why/how they watched it, etc. I was very honored to be on this list, and I wrote a little piece about my years as a DS fangirl (and in particular, a Quentin Collins/David Selby fangirl). He posted it this morning, and you can read it here. And he tweeted about it, which linked people to my own Twitter profile.

And what’s on my Twitter profile? My blog URL.

Oh, dear. Imagine the shock when a bunch of Dark Shadows fans read this column, wondered who I was, and clicked on my blog. Not quite what they were expecting!

Ah well. They’re all big boys and girls, I’m assuming. For the DS fans landing here via the Collinsport Historical Society, I offer you this toon that my talented friend Dave Wolfe created for me a few years ago, which combines two of my favorite obsessions. 😀

My heartthrob is... How old???

Oh… and this really should go without saying, but I’m saying it anyway. If you visit the CHS blog and want to comment on my post, please don’t say anything about TTWD. That’s not what his page is about and that would just be rude, ya know?

Hopping on the Meme Train

Memes — we’ve all seen them, and love them or hate them, they’re here to stay. You know, those ubiquitous pictures with funny, pithy captions that make their way across the Interwebs. You’ve seen the more common themes: Grumpy Cat. The Most Interesting Man. Batman slapping Robin. Gene Wilder’s Willy Wonka. That scruffy looking guy from The Walking Dead (or is it Game of Thrones? Whatever). Some people take personal photos and create their own original memes. The possibilities are endless.

I have a major peeve about memes. (Gee, there’s a big surprise, huh?) I’ll see one that is clever and funny… and then there’s a blatant typo or grammatical error. And it ruins the meme for me. I can’t unsee the mistake, and I don’t want to forward what could have been a work of comic genius because of some glaringly stupid mistake.

The other day on Twitter, some guy I don’t know had posted a meme that was quite original. He had posted the letters T R U M P vertically, then spelled out a word corresponding with each initial. I can’t remember what the first three letters stood for, but the MP? Maniacal Putz. Pretty funny.

Except he spelled it “Manicial.” Arrggh.

Still, it was funny, so I clicked Like. Then I tweeted: “This would have been even funnier if maniacal had been spelled correctly.”

A minute later, I went to look at the meme again. All I saw was “Tweet is no longer available.” I clicked on the guy’s name. He’d blocked me.

Sheesh! Hypersensitive, much? I had to laugh. People have tissue paper for skin these days, it seems. Yeah, I know, I’m pedantic and some people find that to be a pain in the ass. Too bad, so sad. I wasn’t mean. I did “Like” it. But I guess pointing out the spelling error embarrassed him. Or he just didn’t give a damn and didn’t want to take a chance of hearing from me again. Oh well!

I know what you’re thinking. “Well, Erica, let’s see you do a better job creating memes!”

Challenge accepted.

I found a Meme Generator site, where you can take an existing template, or upload a picture of your own, and caption it. Instant meme! I figured out how to work it, and then my devious little mind was unleashed. So now I’ll share a few of my efforts. 😀

We all know this guy, don’t we?

interestingman\

And while I’m on the grammar bandwagon, of course I had to make this meme, highlighting one of my biggest peeves:

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I can still hear you — “What, no spanking meme?” Really, you should know better. 🙂 Here’s one with one of my favorite signature phrases:

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Aaaaand finally, I felt the need to make a statement to people who aren’t fond of my particular brand of sarcastic wit. I chose the following photo, which you’ve all seen before — it’s about ten years old, but it still works:

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I posted that last one on Twitter. It got sixteen Likes and two Retweets. 😀 Yes, the meme generator has generated a Frankenstein. I have seen the future and it is Erica memes.

All right, back to work for me, and then on to John’s. Have a great weekend, y’all.

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