K...K...K...K....

THIS BLOG IS ALL ADULT.  IF YOU DO NOT WANT  TO READ ABOUT SEXUAL RELATED THINGS, STOP HERE!  YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!  DO NOT COME AT ME IN ANY WAY IF YOU ARE GROSSED OUT, TURNED OFF, OR FREAKED OUT!!  YOU HAVE BEEN PROPERLY WARNED!!

I know I've done the fiery letter before but considering the choices I was given for K and the one I chose, I think the fire kinda fits...

So I thought about it and I chose Kinky stuff I'd like to do... Or rather just kinky stuff.

So about a month ago I had a friend over my house and while sitting in my bedroom, he held up the handcuffs that are hanging on my bedpost and wiggled his eyebrows.  I had the good graces to look guilty... I think...

I'm not really guilty but being caught with handcuffs kinda sends a message that one is into some kinky shit.  I mean if I walked into someone's house/ room and they had a leather swing hanging from the ceiling, whips adorning the wall, Erotic pictures, and red light lamps everywhere I don't know about you but I would assume that the person that lived there just might be a little kinky.  Just a little bit.

Me personally, I'll tell you up front, I'm not a little bit kinky.  Dammit I'm a lot kinky.  That whole fifty shades thing, Half of that, I have done, would do, or wish I could do.  PSA: Those balls that Anna had to walk around with... NO.  Just no.  No.

That's not saying I want to tar whipped out of me while I'm with a man.  Spanking, yes,  A little harder than most women probably like it (And I cannot speak for most women) yeah.  I like to hear the hand hitting the bottom.  I like to feel the sting.

You already know I have handcuffs.  If I had bed posts and the ability to tie someone up or be tied up (Or a man to do the tying/be tied) would I tie/be tied?  Hell to yeah!  I personally think that not being able to retreat from the hopefully intense feelings your partner is giving you is awesome.  I'm a runner.  If I can't run from the feelings, I have to feel them all.

I also like blindfolds...  In the area of sex, I am jealous of visually impaired people.  To be unable to focus on anything but the bright lights exploding behind your eyes when you jump over that cliff into oblivion.... mmmhmmm.

What else kinky?

I would like to try a swing.  I look at the sex swings and thanks to very unfortunate web surfing, I know for a fact that women heavier than me have been in one so I would have no problem being in one.  My fears that I would fall out of or off of one have now been assuaged. Whether or not I'm going to be comfortable in one is up the guy in front of the swing... or in back...

The ball gag.  I have not tried one and have no desire to do so.  Being restrained is one thing, not being about to make a real sound.  No.  You can keep your ball gag.

Threesomes.  Manage a trios.  I'm not going to say if I've been in one or if I want to be in one.  That's one of those little mysteries that you might work out for yourself.  Being with two other people is an intriguing idea.  But with that, I don't think I'd recommend any bondage. I also don't think I would recommend the blindfold in this situation.

My mother always told me that a man wants a freak in the bed and a lady in the streets.  I'm pretty sure that this ideal has been lost on today's men.  Men today want a ride or die chick.  She's freak nasty in the bed, on the corner, in the car, on the balcony and the beach and that's a whole new kind of kinky.  That's walking kinky.

Public sex is kinky as well.  At least in my book.  It's kinky and intriguing.  I think it's the element of possibly getting caught in the act that heightens the pleasure.  The fact that someone could walk around the corner and be shocked by the sight of two bodies grinding together in ecstasy not hearing or seeing the world around them alone is enough to make you want to throw caution to the wind.

What I don't think is kinky, cool, or acceptable, is leaving marks on another's skin.  THIS DOES NOT INCLUDE HICKIES.  I'm talking about the cuffs or ropes were so tight against the straining skin that there are now black and blue marks.  If you were doing asphyxiation during sex and you now have a rope burn around your neck, not cool.  Not kinky.  Really getting into it and you're smacking my ass is awesome but me waking up with your palm print across my butt cheek, no.  Whips can be kinky cool but drawing blood with them... no.

There are a lot of things that fall in the kinky category.  A lot of which I haven't covered here.  A lot that I don't even know about.

As always, I welcome comments.  If you would like tell me your definition of kinky, maybe give some examples?

Ciao!

J... Just... J

So it was suggested that for my J blog, I discuss my mom, Justine.  But I had my doubts.  Then I thought, well maybe and I jokingly brought it up to my mom.  She pointed out that with thirty four year of knowledge on this subject plus the combine sum of twenty years of stories about her past, I would be blogging until I was 25 for the fifteenth time.

And then a curious thing happened.  My ex-husband called and I happened to think about Katie's suggestion that I talk about Jackasses.  Hmmmmm.... release some tension, and knock out a J blog all at the same time?  Don't mind if I do...

So jackasses...

To tell you the truth I wish that the jackasses and the stupid people in the world had just been born with a big blinking light on their foreheads so that we could just drown them and go about our business... I mean really how much better would the world be if all the stupid people and all the people that would grow up to be jackasses were drowned at birth.  I can't help but think there would be nobody left because let's face it, everyone is considered a jackass by someone.  The nicest person in the world has someone that has jumped on their last nerve so much that they lost it and became a jackass for even a moment.

Everyone.

I have enough jackasses in my life to fill Giants Stadium.  People who have been jackasses from day one and people who his their jackassery behind people I want to know for awhile.

Most of the boys I went to elementary school with are in the retrospect jackass group.  When I was a kid, they were just kids like me.  When I got away from them, they were people I went to school with.  When we all grew up and some of us reconnected on Facebook or Myspace, some of them were just plain jackasses.  Mostly the guys.  Not the girls really.

Middle school, hmmmm.  Well that's the second third of the stadium.  For starters there was the little white boy that turned and looked at me as I walked into Ocean Township Intermediate School that very first day and then turned to his friend and said. "They let these niggers everywhere..."  Pretty much set the tone for most of my Ocean township years.  Then there's one girl I can place in that group.  Heather Harper.  OMG, she didn't even hide her jackassery.  Girl friend got on the bus that first day of middle school and sat on my lunch and said something about me being new and she would lead me right.  She stank to high hell but you know what.  This chick was my friend from fifth grade to tenth. Some jackasses can't be avoided and can actually make decent friends, even when you know they are jackasses.

High school jackasses and 90% boys.  Freshman year Jesse became a jackass.  Actually most of the drum section really.  And a few of the sax section. And clarinet... Sophomore year a guy named Ben put one foot in the circle.  He wouldn't actually become an inductee until years later.  Junior year the class president joined the ranks.  Senior year the drum section renewed their membership as well as a guy named Mered.  Hell most of the guys did but that was a one sided totally biased placement because I had crushes on most of them and they treated me like what I was.  The fat black girl that stuck out like a sore thumb in whatever circle she was in.

Pretty much everything with a penis joined the ranks in college and a good number of the girls.  Adulthood has it's fair share but whatever, they are faceless in the ranks.

My x husband has until recently, stepped in and out of the ring o' jackasses several times off and on.  He'd be unbelievably shitty and then he'd be unbelievably nice.  Wash rinse repeat.  For the longest time he was actually on his way out of the crowd.  I mean seriously out.  And then he moved to Charlotte. A move, I am sorry to say, I helped facilitate.  Then he walked up to the dais and took the crown away from whoever in my past had it at the time.  I mean kicked them off the thrown and just sat down.  He is the king.

I may or may not have blogged about it, but recently, my x decided that I was a crappy mother and that being with me was an endangerment to our girls.  He filed for sole custody of them and decided that I could have them on the weekends.  He decided that since I don't follow his rules in my home and that when with him, he has to train the girls to his rules every time they come over, I was not doing a good job as a mother.  He decided that because my oldest daughter is slightly overweight, I needed to restrict her meals and learn to cook like him.  It was a whole lot of things but like I said basically he decided I was a eff up of a mother.

Like I said.  Jackass.  King.

He says his main complaint is that I don't talk to him.  He can never have a conversation with me.  I say the problem is that he rates me below a telemarketer when it comes to returning phone calls and texts.  And sadly enough this also extends to our daughters.  He sees my number come up and he sends them to voicemail.  Which crushes them.  Which causes them to not want to call him.  So then he calls and complains that their fingers must be broken because they never call him.  Which puts them on a slight guilt trip.  Which makes them call.  He sees the number and sends them to voicemail.  It's a vicious cycle.

I actually had round, i don't know, five hundred and twenty nine of the "you're a jackass, and I'm done" talk with him tonight.

But I'm sitting here with a good book and a Kahlua milkshake and I'm thinking, I'm going to have a good day.  May not have a good week next week, but tonight?  Tonight is mine and I'm going to make it good.

So blog bloggity blog blog.

I'm always asking for comments.  Here's your chance.  Tell me a story about your King/Queen Jackass.

I'm not mad.... I'm not mad... I'm not mad...

Maybe if I say that over and over... and over and over, it will reach my brain.

I highly doubt that and not just because my brain is swimming in the great caffeine sea right now.  Once again, one of my daughters has been crushed on the X-IL's "My way is the right way" highway.

I can't sit here and tell you horror story after horror story about my marriage... Well I can, but it wouldn't be fair because somewhere in there, I was kinda a bitch and played the eye for an eye, salmon swimming against the tide, I will survive game for a little bit longer than was decently possible.  I did my dirt too.  When my X-IL's talk about bad seeds, they do have a few stories that feature me as the wicked bitch of the North. I know they do and like I said, I deserve them.

But here's the thing, I have this thing inside of me that does't allow me to kowtow to people trying to dominate over me.  If we can work together and come to a reasonable conclusion I can do that.  If you walk in, tell me "This is how it's going to be.  It's my way or the highway" and you aren't my actual or adopted mother, my teacher or principal in school, or the government, you don't need to be dominating over me.

(I could never be Anna Steele.  Never.)

The night of our wedding, with family gathered around, my X-MIL gave her toast and she looked me in the eye and said, "I didn't want you but I guess I have to keep you now."  Needless to say their entire family laughed and found it funny while my mother and I recognized it for the punch in the face it really was.  That one sentence set the tone of the relationship I would have with my MIL to this day.  If I had known that this was how she was on a regular basis, I would have pulled up stakes before the ink dried on the marriage certificate and run.

We've always been rams locking horns.  I think that was our fate.  She never accepted me as good enough for her son.  I never kowtowed.  She never accepted my daughters, I resented that she showed favoritism to my son only.  She hated that I tried to make my marriage about my husband and I, I hated the fact that she had just enough control over him that just when things were going good she was able to convince him that I was the tramp that got pregnant on purpose.  Not once, not twice, but three times.  She hated that I insisted on running my household my way, and I resented that she kept making it so she got her way in my house from three hundred miles away.  I was an age old story of MIL in Hell and the details may vary but you know the story, I don't need to tell it.

As with any MIL she always gave unsolicited advice.  If the subject was as mundane as how to kill a cockroach and my solution was to crush that bad boy with whatever heavy I could find, her advice is to crush it with the north side of your left shoe in a rotating pattern.  No not that way, this way. And in my x's eyes, mom is always right.

We had it out a couple of times.  More than a couple and for awhile she backed down.  Okay so she was really regrouping but I took my victories where I could and I didn't gloat, I wasn't a bad winner. (Maybe once...)

But then J and K started to gain weight.  They take after my side of the family and we aren't exactly rail thin.  On J, it was considered "more to Sugah to love" and he'd tone it one day when it came to sports.  On K she was just fat.  And what was worse, she said this K, repeatedly.  And if you know K, you know that in terms of her self esteem it's not always up to par and kid gloves are needed. (insert story about the kid that took her parent's divorce very badly here)  K didn't get any more graceful as she grew but that's okay becasue she is her own person and she will get it when she gets it.  But that wasn't okay to my X-MIL.  It was a parenting faux pas on my part that I am allowing her to find herself in her own time.

So recently, I decided that as K will be 13 this year and she's in middle school, it was time she got a grown up hair cut and stopped wearing the stinky cornrows I can do.  So my mom paid for the style cut and tracks that our family stylist (That sounds so awesome to say) to give to K.  She looked awesome.  No, she looked AWESOME.  For the first time in a LONG time, my baby walked around looking ahead of herself and not at the floor.  She was happy and her self confidence was right up there where it should be or damn near close.  My baby was happy.

And one overnight trip to Daddy's almost ruined it all.

X-MIL has moved to down Charlotte to be close to her kids since X-SIL has moved down here.  Personally I think X-MIL has moved here specifically to torment and annoy me but I'm kinda biased on this subject.  On Labor day, X had to work so X-MIL and X-SIL, who both grew up in NYC, one of the weave capitols of the world, took the girls to the pool in X's neighborhood.  Seeing K's hair, knowing that it had glue in tracks and that she had just recently gotten a perm (Relaxer), she gave K a Shower cap to wear in the pool.  Labor day, community pool, splashing.

In the end, my child looked like Erykah Badu when she took off her wrap in The Other Side of the Game video.  I couldn't believe it!  Who does that?!?  And then to send back the advice not to put tracks in my daughter's hair anymore?!?!  My daughter walked in here looking at the floor because she KNEW her hair looked jacked up.  She didn't think there was any way I could fix it so that she didn't get laughed at at school.

I have to say here that I think sheer anger at my X-MIL and X-SIL fueled me to work that deep down magic that all black women are apparently born with but don't always tap into cause dammit, my baby looked like a rock star this morning and she walked out of here with her head held high.

And my mom, my blessed mother walked me down from my water tower yesterday because all I wanted to do was march over there and tell that woman exactly what she could do with her advice and herself last night.  She reminded me that they've always been this way and her jacking up my daughters hair with sheer negligence wasn't a personal attack, it was just her being an asshole.  It was nothing new.  I was over reacting.  I just need to regroup and change my tactics.

So, I'm not mad.  I just need to work on my battle strategy.  It's gonna be okay.

We cool.

We cool...

Aye yi yi yi!! Let's talk about I!

I... I... I...

I wanna chat about and interesting happening that as it happens, I wouldn't have the chance to talk about if it hadn't happened last night.

So my neighbor had a mass birthday party because like three people in her massive MASSIVE family had birthday in or around yesterday.  She invited me but frankly I put on my Oopsie persona and I kinda forgot about pretty much everything.  It happens.  not often but it happens.

So she sent her nephew over about eight is maybe nine ish to see if I was coming over.

Dude came into my home smelled the chicken I was frying for the girls and told me it smelled good and he was gonna have to come back and get him a piece of that.  Wanted to know my name, talked to my girls, pretty much broke all of the protocols for a guy entering my home.  After about ten minutes of him bull shitting around "getting to know us" I finally got hi out of my house and promised to swing by the party, which I did twenty minutes later.  Most of the time I was there I spent trying to move away from the nephew because he told everyone that would listen that my house smelled like cupcakes and good fried chicken.  To which my neighbor then told her nephew to ask Ms. Claudette if I would give him a piece of fried chicken. (Note to self, talk to neighbor about her match making skills, she was way off on this one)  I mistakenly said yeah he could have a piece of chicken, in fact since the girls were home, I told him to go over and tell the girls to give him a piece of chicken.  Anything that would shut him up about said chicken (If you can't tell, I was completely ignoring the fact that he was openly flirting with me)

Around ten fifteen I said to my neighbor that I was going home and goodnight.  I went home.  At ten thirty my doorbell rings.  It's the nephew.

Now I should explain.  My neighbors family is massive and gregarious and they adopted me.  Pretty much six months after I moved in, I was a member of the family.  A family that has a blurry love affair with a few boundary issues.  I love it, I hate it!  It's like a normal relationship with a normal family.

Anyway, Dude comes in, he asks for the piece of chicken and sits down on the couch to eat.  Now I'm not overly happy because I haven't invited this guy to stay or anything.  He asked Kayla to turn the television to the college football game and then he sat and after he told me that my chicken was burnt but he was eating it anyway, he grilled me on which sports teams I liked.  Btw, in his book I kinda failed that test because between the Giants and the Jets only I chose Jets.  I didn't choose the Panthers for home pride, and I made a face at the mention of the Gamecocks. About the only thing I did right was cheer for Clemson. At this point I'm kinda pissed because I'm working on a necklace and he's keeping me from it.  Since he insisted on staying I gave him some iced tea.  Really I didn't mean to really.  I was pouring one for myself, spiked and he took it from my hand and said Thank you and began drinking.  He then declared it weak and went back to the fridge and hit my arsenal of liquor and proceeded to turn a simple firefly Iced Tea into something that the Kennedy's probably wouldn't even touch.  He then sat back down and took his shoes off and got comfortable.

So I tried a different technique.  I informed him that eleven P.M. was coming up and he would be leaving as I don't have male visitors in my house after that time.  He said he respected that and sipped the drink.  To which at five to eleven I told him to leave the cup with my neighbor and I would get it later.  I said this as I was pretty much pushing him out of the door.

Put the kids to bed turned off the lights in the front of the house, went back to work realizing now that it was going to be really late when I finished because of the distractions.  Eleven thirty, my doorbell rings.  Nephew is back at my door to tell me his cousin spilled his drink.

I'm not an idiot, he wanted to come in and get another drink and see if he could get a little something popping.  I took the cup and told him next time he was up this way I'd make him another drink and goodnight.

Seriously?  Why do men assume that a woman is going to break all her rules for him?  Did he really think I was just going to open my house and say come on in?  Was I going to kiss him?  Was I going to let him take me to my bedroom?  As if!

So there's my I... my interesting happening...

I don't have a goodbye that starts with I.so uh...

I'll see ya later!!