So I finally saw my doctor Monday.  I wasn’t getting better — could barely talk, kinda-sorta sounded like Lauren Bacall.  And while some of you would find this incredibly sexy, most wouldn’t — thus, still not doing regular calls.  Anyway, I sounded so very bad when I called in the a.m., that the receptionist squeezed me in for an appointment that very day. 

So a few hours later I’m sitting up on that little table while the doc does her thing and gives me the dope.  Seems there’s a "bug" going around that just "holds on forever," and being viral in cause, it doesn’t respond to antibiotics.  But since I’d had this for two plus weeks, she decided I might have a secondary infection, compounded by stressed vocal cords from the exuberant coughing.  So she prescribed doxycycline hyclate and prednisone respectively.  I’m into the middle of my third day and things do seem to be clearing up.

In the meantime, when I’ve been feeling "up to it," I’ve taken a few short calls.  Those would be with guys who know I’ve been pretty sick and just want to kinda-sorta talk.  And don’t even want a kinky phone sex experience.  Imagine that!. 

Sweet Mr. Nerd would be one of those guys.  Being the sweet man he is, he indulged and coddled and commiserated — while I hacked and screeched and whined and pouted.  But, alas, all good things must come to and end.  And I suspect that in this case it was none too soon for Mr. Nerd.  So we’re winding down and he asks. "So what are your plans this week, dear Angela?"  I tell him that not much is going on except me drinking lots of fluids, eating even more chicken soup (thanks for the tidings and counsel, LUSCIOUS ONE) and religiously hunching over my  Vicks Personal Steam Inhaler.  Which I usually do while watching TV (very scary … this lowest common denominator ruling the airwaves).  Which reminds me … oh, and that I’m looking forward to seeing Sarah Palin interviewed on Larry King.

Ever benign and tender with my feelings, Mr. Nerd doesn’t tell me that it pains him to find the daily routine of his Phone Sex Goddess has been reduced to the hum drum.  He doesn’t tell me it saddens his heart (and perhaps softens his cock) that — forced by the necessity of illness — the highlight of my week just might be watching CNN. 

But he also happens to be a man of exceptional wit. 

So, without missing a beat, with nary a millisecond of hesitation, he answers (with tongue placed firmly in cheek): 

Goshhhh.  I hope she’s wearing leather.

Which just tickled my funny bone.  Because, between you and me, Mr. Nerd could care less what a gal is wearing.  He needs no paraphernelia, no idee fixes — leather, feathers, fishnet or otherwise — to be extremely hot and always sexy.   Thanks, Mr. Nerd, for being a stand up guy.  And standing by.  I owe you.

xo, Angela

… oh, and I may be able to work tomorrow.  Not sure yet, but I am starting to feel better and sound better.  So maybe … just maybe.

Ten Things Slave Boy Doesn’t  Want to Hear

#1: “Um, I *think* I have another key around here somewhere…”

#2: “Oops.”

#3: “Um. You didn’t *really* need that, did you?”

#4: “Which end of this thing am I supposed to put in there?”

#5: “Don’t worry. I’m sure there’s a locksmith somewhere that’s open at 2AM…”

#6: “I promised not to do any permanent damage - but you know, hair grows back.”

#7: “Oops. I *thought* that was the lube.”

#8: “Uh oh. If that’s the KY tube, what did I just put up your…..”

#9: “Did I mention we’re on camera and this is going on my interactive website?”

#10 “Safeword? Um, what’s a safeword?”

#11 “And this is my German Shepherd, Ralph. I know you’ll just love Ralph.”

#12 “Oh fuck. You *can* untie yourself from up there, right?”

#13 “Oh shit. You do know CPR, don’t you?”

#14 “Heh heh heh. You didn’t tell anybody else you were coming here, did you?”

#15 “I do too know what I’m doing. I’ve read five whole Gor novels!”

#16 “Now, where DID I put that extra attachment for the chainsaw?”

#17 “Uh oh. If this is the tube of Superglue, where’s the KY?”

#18 “Did I ever mention that little fantasy I have about the tennis balls?”

#19 “Lie very, very still and keep your body temperature low. It turns me on.”

#20 “Oh, um, hello, Officer.”

(sent to me by a very obedient boy, who I think would could actually hear any of the above and would still adore me)

As in … if you were listening in on my call with Mr. M today in which he astutely observed: 

For all we know,  Sarah regularly dresses up like a Polar Bear and makes Todd take her strap-on oil rig up the ass.

Thus I brag  — not for the first time, nor for the last — that I have the absolute greatest callers in the world.  (kisses, Mr. M — talk with you soon)

xo, Angela

Random Mischief ~ September 2008

Anal Beads ala Felix the Cat
Bad Boy Living the Life
Condom a capella Ringtone (FREE)
Drunk as a skunk:  Christopher Hitchens
Elegant Undies … Seriously!
Financial Domination with Ms. Sherry E.
Girly-Boy Transgender Erotica
Have Fun!  Play Sex Games
Irving Klaw:  Retro Fetish Photos
Jason likes Porn Stars
Kink via The New York Times
Lingerie Blog from Slip-of-a-Girl
Mother Jones:  Phone Sex Photo Essay
Not So Silent-Porn Star Blog
Once you vote black, you’ll never, er, um …
Pat Buchanan:  Satan’s toady
Quickie Domination
Radical Vixen:  Make Porn Not War (and call her)
Sex work:  Will She or Won’t She?
Tons of Dirty Pictures
Ultra-Hip Sissy Man Blog
Vampire Phone Sex
Wong Number?
Xtreme BDSM with Eva Lordes
You Can Be a Dirty Little Blogger
Zen-fabulous Hypnotic Goddess