It's the wayward life

I am so not in the mood to update - Harry Potter, Silvercon and yesterday's intense all day IM-ing ate my brain - but there are a couple of things I have to say:

First: huge, huge love for the_reader. You spread joy and good words. Thank you. Since sexual favours would be inappropriate in our case, if you send me your address I will send you a small, brightly-coloured sculpture of an improbable creature with a daft expression on its face.

Secondly, a plug. I met a rather nice kinky gaming geek at Silvercon (and there's a possibility of getting to know him a great deal better in the not-too-distant future, yay!) - and he sells very nice, very reasonably-priced leatherwear, bondage gear and other kinky things. My income level at the moment only permits me to feed myself and my dogs and buy the occasional book, but I do have a lot of kinky friends - so check out his website (probably not safe for work). Although it's UK based he can send stuff anywhere, and there's even a nifty little currency converter on the site.

Squish doesn't seem to have suffered any ill effects from possibly having eaten sofa stuffing at the weekend, thankfully. He did have the runs yesterday morning (which is a right bugger when you have to poop scoop straight away, let me tell you - I had to dig out a small divot of turf to get it all) but it was back to normal by his afternoon dump, so I stopped worrying. He does seem to have short episodes of squittiness after any emotional excitement or upset, and in Squishyworld missing a meal is a serious cause of emotional upset. Poor dear.

I really, really must get dog crates. I always meant to look for some cheap second hand ones after we settled in here. It would solve a lot of the not-being-able-to-leave-the-dogs-alone problems. Squish's separation anxiety doesn't kick in if he has Spike with him, but if the two of them are able to look out of the windows they see things they're compelled to bark at every five minutes, and if I'm not there to stop them at the first bark they'll piss the neighbours off far too much.

Also, crates would mean I wouldn't have to walk them over to Mum's every time I want to have sex, and, with practise, I should be able to exercise them separately more often, which they could both really do with. At the moment I can only do it if I take them to Mum's first, and I'm ashamed to admit that in the summer heat I've been very lazy about doing the half hour walk.

*sigh*

Possibility of K. coming over this evening - he hasn't called but that doesn't mean he won't. Better vacuum up the dog hair and wash the dishes anyway, I suppose. Either way, a clean floor and kitchen are good things to have.

( Daft bunny meme )

It's the wayward life

I am so not in the mood to update - Harry Potter, Silvercon and yesterday's intense all day IM-ing ate my brain - but there are a couple of things I have to say:

First: huge, huge love for the_reader. You spread joy and good words. Thank you. Since sexual favours would be inappropriate in our case, if you send me your address I will send you a small, brightly-coloured sculpture of an improbable creature with a daft expression on its face.

Secondly, a plug. I met a rather nice kinky gaming geek at Silvercon (and there's a possibility of getting to know him a great deal better in the not-too-distant future, yay!) - and he sells very nice, very reasonably-priced leatherwear, bondage gear and other kinky things. My income level at the moment only permits me to feed myself and my dogs and buy the occasional book, but I do have a lot of kinky friends - so check out his website (probably not safe for work). Although it's UK based he can send stuff anywhere, and there's even a nifty little currency converter on the site.

Squish doesn't seem to have suffered any ill effects from possibly having eaten sofa stuffing at the weekend, thankfully. He did have the runs yesterday morning (which is a right bugger when you have to poop scoop straight away, let me tell you - I had to dig out a small divot of turf to get it all) but it was back to normal by his afternoon dump, so I stopped worrying. He does seem to have short episodes of squittiness after any emotional excitement or upset, and in Squishyworld missing a meal is a serious cause of emotional upset. Poor dear.

I really, really must get dog crates. I always meant to look for some cheap second hand ones after we settled in here. It would solve a lot of the not-being-able-to-leave-the-dogs-alone problems. Squish's separation anxiety doesn't kick in if he has Spike with him, but if the two of them are able to look out of the windows they see things they're compelled to bark at every five minutes, and if I'm not there to stop them at the first bark they'll piss the neighbours off far too much.

Also, crates would mean I wouldn't have to walk them over to Mum's every time I want to have sex, and, with practise, I should be able to exercise them separately more often, which they could both really do with. At the moment I can only do it if I take them to Mum's first, and I'm ashamed to admit that in the summer heat I've been very lazy about doing the half hour walk.

*sigh*

Possibility of K. coming over this evening - he hasn't called but that doesn't mean he won't. Better vacuum up the dog hair and wash the dishes anyway, I suppose. Either way, a clean floor and kitchen are good things to have.

( Daft bunny meme )

Like a fool, I fell in love with you

( Cut for lots of dog pictures, including Squish auditioning for puppy porn )

Like a fool, I fell in love with you

( Cut for lots of dog pictures, including Squish auditioning for puppy porn )

So you push it and you test it

Did you know that a really profound boneshaking orgasm will make me speak in tongues?

( Cut for the squeamish )

I ache all over, inside and out, and my tongue is still sore as hell. Life is good.

(Edit: One of my American readers wants me to clarify "clothespegs" - apparently in Yankspeak those are the wooden ones without springs. Well, these were the plastic kind with springs - it'd be difficult to clamp the other kind onto somebody - but in English they're still called pegs.)

So you push it and you test it

Did you know that a really profound boneshaking orgasm will make me speak in tongues?

( Cut for the squeamish )

I ache all over, inside and out, and my tongue is still sore as hell. Life is good.

(Edit: One of my American readers wants me to clarify "clothespegs" - apparently in Yankspeak those are the wooden ones without springs. Well, these were the plastic kind with springs - it'd be difficult to clamp the other kind onto somebody - but in English they're still called pegs.)