Normal is relative

Spent the weekend at a science-fiction convention. Kelly wan’t able to go, as she was involved in preparing a wedding for a friend of ours, but I did get to spend the weekend with Shelly, M. my archnemesis, and several other close personal friends that I really don’t spend enough time with.

I got to glue computer parts onto Shelly’s body, which is always a good time. We all played Drunken Strip “Are You a Werewolf?”, which is also a good time. Are You a Werewolf? is a great game to begin with, and as we all know, drunkenness and nakedness make everything better (with the possible exception of open-heart surgery, though even that is up in the air).

And now, back at the office, things are back to normal, for some value of “normal.”

More later. But first, Trick or Treating and another moment of Zen, hidden behind a cut… Yes, this is work-safe

Signs of the Apocalypse, Part 32

There’s a church on my way to work which for a long time had a banner out front reading “The Church of I Feel Good.” Sadly, I was never able to get a picture of it, since they’d taken it down by the time I found my charger for my digital camera.

Today, there is a new banner in its place. It reads, “Who R U?”

Yes, boys and girls, the inevitable has happened. AOL chat room speak has invaded the hallowed Halls of God.

I can just see it now:

s0ulsavinman: who r u?
born2s1n: 21/f/ca
s0ulsavinman: no, really, who r u?
born2s1n: I can be anyone you like.
born2s1n: how about a secretary? we can be working late…
s0ulsavinman: u r a l0st lamb seduced by the w0rld
born2s1n: wtf?
born2s1n: I don’t do animals.
s0ulsavinman: u need 2 be s4v3d by J3sus
born2s1n: ok, good idea
born2s1n: I like the Catholic schoolgirl thing.
born2s1n: I even have the skirt.
s0ulsavinman: u r a s1nner. u will burn in the lake of fire
born2s1n: I only do fire play with people I know.
s0ulsavinman: J3sus knows ur secret heart. H3 knows everythin about u.
s0ulsavinman: H3 can s4ve u. or u will go to h311 n burn n suffer 4evr n demons will tear out ur eyes.
s0ulsavinman: J3sus loves u.
born2s1n: You’re sick.

Weekend S&M…Wheee!

Saturday saw the annual Happy Slappy Halloween Party, hosted by the Ft. Myers BDSM club. The bad news: Kelly had a dental office management seminar to attend in Orlando, and Shelly had to work. The good news: M was available, and up for a good flogging, so…

Off we went, down to Ft. Myers. Turnout was good–about a hundred and twenty people or so. All of whom were standing around waiting for someone else to be the first out in the play area.

Which challenge we were more than willing to answer.

Five minutes later saw M tied standing spreaeagle to the rack, which is a lovely look on her. Club rules forbid nudity, which is a pity, but she had quite a cute pair of Victoria’s Secret panties on. (What is sexy? Cute chick in Victoria’s Secret tied to a rack, that’s what!)

After a warmup flogging, I got out the axe. M squirmed quite delightfully as the blade slid over her bare skin. Then some more flogging, nice and long and steady until she was writhing. Then the rabit fur, and some bound teasing and grinding…quite yummy, every bit.

Afterward, several people approached us and told us how much they’d enjoyed the show, which was quite flattering. Having an audience is so much fun. 🙂

And on an unrelated note, a moment of zen cut for your convience, work-safe

Old Ghosts

Or one old ghost, more accurately.

Her name is Robin. She was a girlfriend, eleven-odd years ago. In fact, she lived with us, when we first moved to Tampa.

Things ended badly, in no small part because of my own insecurities. At the time, I had this idea that I was somehow magically immune to jealousy; when I started feeling insecure in my relationship with her, I didn’t recognize the feelings for what they were, and as a result I was very cruel to her.

Our relationship disintegrated over a period of six very painful months. The repercussions of that failure helped shape many of the rules and structures of my relationship with kellyv, structures which have been in place until the last year or so.

A great number of my personal philosophies about relationships, communication, and conflict management came from the ruins of my relationship with Robin. It’s safe to say that in some fundamental ways, I wouldn’t be the person I am had things with her not gone the way they did. My own regret over the way I treated her has been a part of my psychological background for the last eleven years.

After our breakup, she married and moved to Wisconsin. I had made a few attempts in the years after our relationship ended to get back in touch with her, and let her know that I regret the things i said and did that hurt her. Hurt both of us, really. All for nothing; she refuses to speak to me, and it’s hard to blame her, really.

Fast-forward to earlier this week. kellyv and I went into a local diner where we eat lunch often…

…and there they were, Robin and her husband, sitting in a booth right by the door.

It’s amazing how eleven years of distance doesn’t seem to make a damn bit of difference to emotional pain.

kellyv is very fortunate; she’s never had her heart broken. Even after more than a decade, it still sucks.

Monotony stew, anyone?

In an Web article called Is Monogamy Monotonous?, author Michelle Hickford put forth the idea that serial monogamy is inevitable because sexual monogamy is inherently boring:

“We’d probably rebel if we were told we could only read one book in our lifetime, or eat grilled cheese sandwiches exclusively at every meal. Life would be dull if we could only ever wear white t-shirts and jeans (hmm, I suppose that would be heaven for some). But, I’m certain there would be general mayhem if there was only one TV program replayed over and over.

And yet, there is one facet of our lives for which a single choice is required. Often, a single choice made relatively early in life — before we’ve even had a chance to form other preferences. Of course, I’m speaking of mates.”

Quite frankly, I find the thesis, and its conclusion, silly. My response, sent in an email to Ms. Hickford: Cut for your viewing pleasure

And it just keeps getting worse.

Television ad: A man stranded in front of his car calls for help on his cell phone. An attractive young lady, obviously dressed for a formal occasion, arrives. Him: “I know you had that thing tonight, but…”

The man watches in helpless awe as the woman changes his flat tire. The announcer intones the wonders of some woman’s deodorant as she dusts off her hand and heads off to her whateveritis.

Nice ad, neatly plays on traditional gender roles, giving a little boost to the idea that women can do anything they like while wryly playing off a cultural stereotype. But…


They fucked it up. They totally, utterly botched it.

Idiots. Morons. They screwed the pooch and destroyed the ad, because some set dresser had to be clever.

How? How did they screw up?


“Yet mark his perfect self-contentment, and hence learn his lesson, that to be self-contented is to be vile and ignorant, and that to aspire is better than to be blindly and impotently happy.”
— Edwin A. Abbott

I have been in rare form all day long. The details have to do with an ambulance trip, debilitating pain, heavy doses of narcotics, and an altered state of perception; if you’re not squeamish, they are here