I really don’t have anything to write about. I typed the next chapter of Nice Ass, and deleted it, then typed it again, then deleted it. It’s just not easy to segue post-coital afterglow into a lengthy discussion on BDSM, so I’ll probably just delete all that conversation out and replace it with something like, “Wow, that was awesome. Is your tongue double-jointed?” (It’s not, mind you. I actually sprained it.)
The real problem, I guess, is that several readers are pulling for Diane, and I don’t want to turn her into a crazy bitch. But I also don’t want to bend the truth into something that’s completely false. Sorry to spoil it for you. She called me a couple of months ago, out of the blue, and I actually dropped my phone in fear when I saw her name show up. She’s that crazy.
Aside from writing the next chapter in my almost-fictional autobiography, I just haven’t a lot going on that I want to write about. I haven’t tried cooking anything new. (Although I did make cheeseburger macaroni Hamburger Helper last night, and I ate the ENTIRE thing. Good lord, what was I thinking?) I haven’t done anything around the house. I haven’t even cut my grass in two weeks.
I guess I’ve just been lazy. It’s not some depression-based laziness, just sloth. I think work has been entirely too busy, and it’s taken its toll on my home life. I don’t want to do anything once I get home.
I’ll do my best to resolve that this weekend. Friday night, I plan on meeting CSI Guy and Team Richardson at The Saucer for some drinks, and Saturday I’m going to the Dragon to geek-out and play some Warhammer. (Maybe I’ll paint some goblins tonight to get ready for that.)
And some time in-between, I’ll probably call that girl who makes me laugh and tell her I’m thinking about her. She’d like that. I’d probably like it, too.
I just MIGHT cut my grass, too.
No worries. All women turn into crazy bitches. Your readers should expect it.
Wait. She can’t be crazy. God damn it! I’m going to have to rethink my whole “Getting Stuck a Woman” strategy.
I would like that very much so. I hope your weekend isnt too busy and you forget about me. =)
It’s just not easy to segue post-coital afterglow into a lengthy discussion on BDSM, so I’ll probably just delete all that conversation out
Damn. I was expecting some juicy stuff, and what do I get? Nothing.
where can i read the nice ass? sounds interesting.
There’s a link on the sidebar. You won’t find anything juicy in it, though. At least, not as juicy as a story by Anne Desclos (a.k.a. Pauline Reage).
That would be hard to achieve anyway…
ok, now, is it fictional or not??? i’ve been reading THIS blog, hoping for the real scoop, and now i feel i’m missing out on it!!!
argh. stop being so mysterious. this is the internet. you’re supposed to tell the truth.
It’s quasi-fictional. Diane was a real person, and we really did go out to a hoity-toity restaurant on her soon-to-be-ex-husband’s credit card and we really did go back to her place and fuck like rabbits. But the fake part is when she and I had that relationship. It was actually before the whole Nice Ass experiment even had a name.