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Angela St. Lawrence is the reigning queen of high-end phone sex, providing esoteric depravity for the aficionado, specializing in Erotic Fetish, Female Domination, Cock Control, Kinky Taboo and Sensual Debauchery. To make an appointment or speak with Ms. St. Lawrence  CLICK HERE.

Archive for the 'Sidetracked' Category

Index Librorum Prohibitorum

Saturday, October 3rd, 2009
A book is the only place in which you can examine a fragile thought without breaking it, or explore an explosive idea without fear it will go off in your face. It is one of the few havens remaining where a man’s mind can get both provocation and privacy.

~Edward P. Morgan

Today ends Banned Book Week.  Can you stand just one more rant from yours truly?  I know I already did that yesterday; but it’s important because it speaks to our basic and most beautiful right to not only express ourselves but to seek out kindred hearts and thinkers.  It also happens to speak to our human right to learn and grow and self-actuate.  So lets have at it just one more time … what do you say?  And then I’ll exercise my First Amendment rights tomorrow (or maybe the next day) to write you something really dirty and juicy.

So once upon a time & a few years back, when I was writing regularly for Sex Kitten (and I may be doing so again … so stay tuned), I wrote the piece below.  Most of you here haven’t seen it and I think it stands the test of time, so here you go:

Banned in Boston, Condemned in Cleveland

Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the Library: My 451 on Freedom of Speech, Libraries, The First Amendment and Banned Book

In a perfect world, those who screw with The First Amendment would be sentenced to careers-without-parole as testers in ball gag factories. And why not? Why not let them see what it feels like for a change. Just a thought. Or maybe they want to take that away from us too?

Sadly, when it comes to Freedom of Speech, sometimes the last place we’ve been able to find it is in our libraries.

Which seems kind of weird, don’t you think? Shouldn’t at least The Library be hallowed ground? A quasi-church for those of us who actually know how to think on our feet and our knees? And even in between? For those of us who believe that truth is earned, truth is fluid, truth is personal? For those of us who know we will bleed more than we will ever learn, yet pick up the gauntlet anyway?

Because we know that apprenticed truth is the very marrow of all that makes us human. That suffraged truth is ours to keep forever. And that these self-learned truths are what truly sanctify us, make us whole, make us real. Because we know that human-ness and sanctification are one and the same.

Because we know that to keep truth you need to earn it. You need to fight for it, sometimes even die for it. Because borrowed truth just doesn’t stick: Won’t stick to you. Or inside of you. Or up for you.

But some people try to do just that, over and over again. Unable to find the path, unwilling to pay the price, looking for an easier, softer way — and missing the irony of their very own actions — they cling to their cookbooks, their bibles, their leaflets, their doctrines, their scrolls, their index cards, their cheat sheets.

Forsaking the wisdom of their very own hearts, ignoring the axiom No Guts, No Glory, they take the easy way out (instead of the harder way inside), looking to some Petrarchan authority to tell them what to think, what to believe, how to act. And they know they are right: Because they’ve got the rules now. They’ve got the rules, and by golly the rest of of us better start living by them or else.

And so they set about the business of minding everybody else’s business. What else can you do when you’ve finally got the rules? What else can you do when you know better than everybody else? What else can you do when you’ve been born again in the stagnant waters of vainglorious superiority, carved anew from the petrified rock of pseudo-enlightenment?

And the dirty little rat bastids just won’t leave our books alone. Forgetting that the very reason they know they are right and we are wrong is because they read it somewhere and that makes it true. Imagining some knighted prerogative to “go forth and cleanse,” they slither into our libraries unannounced (but always invited) to bite the hand that originally fed them.

I’m just kind of sick of it. Books of all types, sizes, shapes and subject matter have repeatedly disappeared from the hallowed shelves on this most-American of institutions time and again. Thanks to the blessed and all-knowing storm troopers, we have to repeatedly fight for the right to read.

So let me ask you this: If someone takes a book away from me, do I get to take one away from them? Do I get to decide for them, like they want to do for me, what they shall read? Because I am the moral conscience for the world? Because I know better than you and them and him and her? And do we do this—tit for tat—until there are no books left? None to be found anywhere, every last shelf picked clean?

Just something to think about as Banned Books Week draws to a close. And I do hope you think about it. Think about it all year round. Think about a world stunted by intellectual pygmies who want to steal every idea ever found in a book, because they’ve never had an original one of their own, and it scares the hell out of them.

Think about a world without music, without poetry and even without prayer, because original thought is original sin…and we can’t have that, now, can we?

Think of a world, of all the worlds, contained inside the covers of each and every single book.

Think about all of this when…

…you visit the library, walk into a bookstore, join a book club, attend a book fair and your heart thrills at the banquet of possibilities.

…you catch the musty scent of aged paper and pulp when entering your grandfather’s den and remember his smile, the way he held you on his lap and read to you.

…you read a Shakespearian sonnet to the woman you love and see the look of love in her eyes.

…you grieve the ending of the best book ever as a last chapter looms ahead.

…you run across an old school book and remember how autumn always smelled so new, so full of promise, back then.

********

About Index Librorum Prohibitorum.:  Well, shame on me!  I grew up a Catholic gal and had never heard of this.  And wouldn’t have, unless a thoughtful commenter on my last post brought it up.  (Thank you, very much and I hope you visit often.)  Of course, I googled it and there it was all over the place.  I’ll just send you to the Wikipedia page, where you can read all about it. 

And I just had to use it as a title, ‘cuz it makes look smarter than I am.  *wink*

One more thing:  "Google" is officially a verb now (and has been for a while), which makes "googled" a real word ( a past tense verb, to be specific).  So why doesn’t my spell checker recognize it?  argghhhh. 

Serious Fuck Me Pumps

Monday, September 28th, 2009

via Hippy of Doom at Deviant Art

Who’ll Have The Last Laugh?

Friday, September 18th, 2009

 God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh. 

Voltaire

 

via Bizarro

Acumen in a “Culture of Cruelty”

Saturday, September 5th, 2009

 

Phone Sex EMail

Tuesday, July 14th, 2009

Phone Sex Email:  A SLIPPERY BAG OF TRICKS

Well once — when I refused to do Racial Humiliation — I actually got this one:  Get off your fucking high hourse [sic], you fucking cunt.  Sigh.  And you wonder why sometimes I just want to turn off the phones, curl up under a blanket and watch a good old-fashioned movie on Turner Classic Movies.  (BTW … you can download some pretty damn cool FREE  backgrounds and screen savers — including It’s a Bikini World, Great Expectations, and Have Rocket, Will Travel from TCM right HERE.) 

Oops!  There I go digressing again.

I get a lot of jokes.

Mr. D. — who happens to be rather unhappily married sent me this:

THE F. B. I. WAS IN THE PROCESS OF INTERVIEWING APPLICANTS SEEKING TO BE AGENTS.

After all the background checks, interviews and testing were done, there were 3 finalists; two men and a woman.

For the final test, the FBI agents took one of the men to a large metal door and handed him a gun. They told him, "We must know that you will follow your instructions no matter what the circumstances."  Inside the room you will find your wife sitting in a chair.  Kill her!!"  The man said, "You can’t be serious. I could never shoot my wife." The agent said, ‘Then you’re not the right man for this job. Take your wife and go home."

The second man was given the same instructions. He took the gun and went into the room. All was quiet for about 5 minutes. The man came out with tears in his eyes, "I tried, but I can’t kill my wife."  The agent said, "You don’t have what it takes. Take your wife and go home."

Finally, it was the woman’s turn. She was given the same instructions to kill her husband. She took the gun and went into the room. Shots were heard, one after another. They heard screaming, crashing, banging on the walls. After a few minutes, all was quiet.

The door opened slowly and there stood the woman, wiping the sweat from her brow. "This gun is loaded with blanks," she said. "I had to beat him to death with the chair."

MORAL:  Women are crazy. Don’t mess with them.

Sometimes, after a call, I will get the sweetest Thank You EMail:

Thank you so much for our encounter today. It was a pleasure in every way imaginable. It’s been a long time since an erotic and kinky encounter felt so right. I do believe I could’ve chatted with you for hours (kinky or not).

Or a humorous follow-up:

My mother would be proud…well…..  Love, Mr. M.

Maybe something to both tickle and impress:

May I compare thee to a summer rose?  I know you make me thorny.

Or an invitation:

I’m going to be in your neck of the woods August 18 and 19.  Would you consider getting together?  Just for a cup of coffee, of course.

And of course I get zillions of Fantasy Requests and they do run the gamut:

***Will you be my Twisted Psychiatrist and turn me into your Nasty Bimbo Slut?  (this included pictures of his feminized self)  YES I WILL!

***Mmmm … I want to be your slutty whore.  Will you strap-on train me?  YES I WILL!

***If I send you pictures of me doing dirty things (dildos, eating my own cum, etc.), will you blackmail me?  I will send you my girlfriend’s phone number and email address.  NO I WONT!

***Will you turn me into your jack off boy?  Make me wait, make me beg.  Train my cock to serve you.  Will you watch me on cam?  YES I WILL

***Dear Mistress Angela:  I have a fantasy about being totally addicted to a woman who enjoys controlling me and using me.  It is very important that she enjoy her power and can make me do anything.  May I call you?  YES YOU CAN!

And another joke (from a fav sissy boy):

My flight was being served by an obviously gay flight attendant, who seemed to put everyone in a good mood as he served us food and drinks.  As the plane prepared to descend, he came swishing down the aisle and told us that "Captain Marvey has asked me to announce that he’ll be landing the big scary plane shortly, so lovely people, if you could just put your trays up, that would be super."

On his trip back up the aisle, he noticed this well-dressed and rather Arabic looking woman hadn’t moved a muscle.

"Perhaps you didn’t hear me over those big brute engines but I asked you to raise your trazy-poo, so the main man can pitty-pat us on the ground."

The woman calmly turned her head and said, "In my country, I am called a Princess and I take orders from no one."

To which (I swear) the flight attendant replied, without missing a beat, "Well, sweet-cheeks, in my country I’m called a Queen, so I outrank you.  Tray-up, Bitch."

PQS sends me poetry:

Words That Make My Stomach Plummet

by Mira McEwan

Committee Meeting.       Burden of Proof.

                  The Simple Truth.      Trying To Be Nice.

Honestly.   I Could Have Died.        I Almost Cried.

              It’s Only a Cold Sore.

   It’s My Night.     Trust Me.    Dead Serious.

I Have Everything All Under Control.

                I’m Famous For My Honesty.

       I’m Simply Beside Myself.      We’re On The Same Page.

                Let’s Not Reinvent The Wheel.

For The Time Being.   There Is That.

                      I’m Not Just Saying That.

   I Just Couldn’t Help Myself.             I Mean It.

HDB sends me conservative manifestos while PQS sends me liberal manifestos.  On the other hand, Puzzler and backroads send me a little bit of everything when it comes to politics and the world in general.

And then there are those of you who never write or comment here.  But I know you’re there and I know you’re reading me … because you tell me when we talk.  And that’s enough.

xo, Angela