Shameless Bandwagon Jumping

I signed up for Formspring. On the one hand, I doubt anyone will even use it or ask things, on the other I'm vaguely worried because encouraging any sort of anonymous commentary makes me nervous. I'll probably delete my account when I get bored with it. But for now, go ahead, ask me anything.

So last night I went out for a few drinks with some friends. Jack had an appointment early this morning, so he stayed home to go to bed early. I knew he wanted me to polish his shoes for said appointment, but wasn't sure if I should do it when I got home or just go to bed.

I came in at around 2:00am, still a little bit tipsy. I unlocked the door, went down the hall towards the bedroom and there, in the middle of the hall, were the shoes and the shoe polish kit, with a post-it note attached that read "<3 ATTN: PET <3" Apparently I was still expected to polish the shoes. I went towards the living room, to plug in my phone which had died while we were at the bar. As I reached to turn on the light, I happened to look up at the ceiling. Before even turning on the light, I saw it there on the ceiling--a centipede.

Now, as a kid I was utterly terrified of any sort of invertebrate creature--ticks, spiders, and any and all bugs. Terrified. Even a closet moth would flip me the fuck out. These days I'm usually pretty calm, but there are two things I am still completely, ridiculously, unreasonably afraid of--black widow spiders and centipedes. Black widows, of course, are fuckoff huge and creepy looking and full of hemotoxic venom that can kill you, so I feel like my fear of them is pretty reasonable. And, of course, I've never seen a black widow in person. Centipedes are really creepy looking, but the kind that live in New York are not at all harmful to humans. Centipedes, however, appear in our apartment all the goddamn time and I am so scared of them I can't cope with it at all. One time, when there was a centipede in our bathtub, I went to the library to use their bathroom. i am unreasonably terrified of them.

So there's a centipede, a creature of which I am terrified beyond all reason, on the living room ceiling. And it's 2:00 in the morning, and Jack is sleeping, and I'm a little drunk and I have to polish Jack's shoes.

I did what any reasonable adult would do--I ran into the living room, grabbed my laptop to protect it from the centipede, then grabbed Jack's shoes and the polish and went and hid in the bathroom (which is roughly the size of a closet, since of course this is a New York apartment) and polished the shoes.

I feel like the Allie Brosh of consensual D/s.

Toys

This is what I found on the couch when I wandered into the living room this morning. Jack is going out of town tonight, and I guess he packed the bag we usually use as a toy bag.

I saw this tangle of stuff, and my thought was "Wow. Is this really my life? Awesome."

(It's worth noting that this doesn't include any vibrators or insertables, which have taken over my nightstand. Or things like the long riding crop, which don't fit in the bag.)

So I keep trying to find a way to build a big, important post about this framing it within lots of meaning about trying things I'm afraid of and being brave and adventurous and what I've gained from that...but that post kept coming out really pretentious. So I'm just going to skip to the part I want to brag about...

...Guys, I got set on fire this week-end.

Actually, the fire was burning just above my skin and only felt uncomfortably hot when left to burn for more than a second or two. But still, I was pretty much scared to death and I did it anyway and it turned out to be really awesome.

so yeah, thanks to the friend who set me on fire, I did something scary and I was okay and that's awesome.

A Bunch of Really Random Thoughts

-Jack said back in January that one of his goals for 2010 was for me to be fisted. I'm pretty sure he was mostly joking, but the more fisting comes up in my life the more intrigued I am. I think I'm now on board with the fisting mission.

-I've discovered that I put way too much pressure on myself for things to be awesome. If I go to any event, whether it's a play party or to a bar with my college friends, with really high expectations, I'll freak myself out so much that I end up having a terrible time. I'm working on not having expectations, but just letting things happen.

-I think How I Paid for College: A Novel of Sex, Theft, Friendship, and Musical Theatre by Marc Acito is the most sex-positive novel I've ever read. I may actually write an entire post on why and how cool that is, but I can never think of a good way to bring it up.

-I feel like I have an identity crisis every few months. This has been going on pretty much my whole life, except maybe briefly in high school. I never feel like I quite fit in anywhere, and I wish I was more comfortable with that and didn't feel the need to label myself.

-I can't talk to my parents about sex at all unless it's as a very abstract concept. Whenever they mentioned it to me in the past, I got horribly embarrassed and awkward and froze up. These days, the reverse is true--they freeze up. I find this weird, since my dad once said, in response to a TV show, "Anyone who says they've never touched themselves is either frigid or lying." I feel like my parents are probably pretty cool about sex, except when it comes to me.

-I now have as much trouble watching movies that reference kinky sex as I used to watching film adaptations of musicals or costume dramas. Instead of yelling out "OMG! They cut one of the best songs!" or "OMG! The sleeves on that dress are completely wrong!" I'm now going "OMG! They just pierced his nipples with no real consent!"

See, I told you guys Catholicism was kinky.

On a lighter note...

There's a part of me that really wants James Spader's characters in Pretty in Pink and Secretary to be the same person. I'm not sure why, other than the fact that they are two of my favorite movies and I seem to be developing a bit of a thing for snotty rich kids.

I have seriously spent time trying to think of a name that the E in E. Edward Gray (Spader's character in Secretary) could stand for that could also be shortened to Steff (Spader's character in Pretty in Pink). I want Mr. Gray, when talking about his life, to say "I was kind of a jerk in high school. I grew up outside Chicago and my parents had a lot of money..."

Clearly I need more productive things to do with my spare time.