You know what they say:

These men may jerk from sun to sun.

But my dirty words are never done.

…or something like that.

Which is to say that I put in a very long day on the phones and am very tired. Plus, I need to get to bed soon, so I am up in time for my dental appointment. (No worries, just a regularly scheduled cleaning.) But, before tucking myself in, I wanted to drop by and check in with all of you.

Have you been good? Or are you one of the bad boys who called me today. Of course that means you can blame all of your misbehavior and dirty deeds on me. So you’re off the hook. At least until the next time.

Soooo…

Best Blog Ever: Don To Earth Is this just not the coolest? Oh; to sit at his feet and listen to his stories, to take in all the wisdom he has to share. (Thanks to E. for linking me.)

I wrote a new poem, thirst.

But before that I wrote something very dirty.

And just let me say this about advertising: It is way out of control and they are sticking it to us every where we breathe. I am so incredibly amazed at the audacity which is now accepted as the norm, wherein television stations shove ads constantly down our throats even when we are in the middle of watching a show by running banners across the bottom of the screen during the entire half hour or hour. I mean, aren’t the commercials in between enough? Does everything have to be a “selling opportunity” that simply can’t be passed up?

Bravo –a station I simply adore for its gay-supportive broadcasting and because it is where I watch my beloved Inside the Actors Studio— is one of the worse offenders. But they have us by the proverbial balls, if we are fans of Tom Colicchio, Tim Gunn (yes, you can buy me his book..I’m dying to read it) and Jackie Warner (Sizzzzzzle!). So I am putting up with it, but pouting and grousing nonetheless.

Which, in my roundabout way, brings me to this: Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List rocks! For this show alone, even if all the aforementioned shows were not available on Bravo, I would still give in and watch. You have to see her to believe her. Tonight she actually went on a date with Ron Jeremy. And he was the perfect gentleman, dontcha know? But then, I knew he would be.

Oh, and: This and that about this and that.

One more thing: New Millennium Phone Sex

Can I go to bed now, daddy?

xo, Angela

Courage

~Anne Sexton

It is in the small things we see it.
The child’s first step,
as awesome as an earthquake.
The first time you rode a bike,
wallowing up the sidewalk.
The first spanking when your heart
went on a journey all alone.
When they called you crybaby
or poor or fatty or crazy
and made you into an alien,
you drank their acid
and concealed it.

Later,
if you faced the death of bombs and bullets
you did not do it with a banner,
you did it with only a hat to
cover your heart.
You did not fondle the weakness inside you
though it was there.
Your courage was a small coal
that you kept swallowing.
If your buddy saved you
and died himself in so doing,
then his courage was not courage,
it was love; love as simple as shaving soap.

Later,
if you have endured a great despair,
then you did it alone,
getting a transfusion from the fire,
picking the scabs off your heart,
then wringing it out like a sock.
Next, my kinsman, you powdered your sorrow,
you gave it a back rub
and then you covered it with a blanket
and after it had slept a while
it woke to the wings of the roses
and was transformed.

Later,
when you face old age and its natural conclusion
your courage will still be shown in the little ways,
each spring will be a sword you’ll sharpen,
those you love will live in a fever of love,
and you’ll bargain with the calendar
and at the last moment
when death opens the back door
you’ll put on your carpet slippers
and stride out.

***

I was on a call last night when the conversation took an unexpected turn and where it all ended up was in the discussion of poetry. I was reminded of this, my most favorite poem by most favorite poet. This is the first and, so far, the only poem that has actually made me cry.

It’s about time I included it in our ever growing collection. I hope it moves you as it moved me.

xo, Angela

I think we know who’s the boss, don’t we?  (Thanks to Mr. D for the pic.)

Yes, I’ve been a bad girl. I admit it. Out of the blue, without any warning or fanfare I took a mini-vacation. Hey, it happens. As much as I love what I do and who I do it with, sometimes I just wanna curl up under a quilt and read a book. Which is exactly what I have been doing. Nothing more, nothing less. Okay, a bit of television here and there and a few forays out into the neighborhood. But mostly it’s been bubble baths and PJs and relaxing with some good, chewy junk food for the brain.

So while you know I prefer being the “authoritative” one in our relationship, darling, I am going to let you have your he-man, brutal way with me just this once: Put me over those Armani-clad (or is it Lee jeans today?) knees of your and just spank the hell out of my sweet little ass. Make that bum nice and red while you have the chance.

Ouch!

Do you feel better now? I know I sure do. But, then again, I’m the one that took the five day holiday. I should feel good.

***

And now: Back To Our Regularly Scheduled Blog

One thing I try to do when I take these little fiestas is to get away from technology. With PCs and telephones being an integral part of my business/professional activities and even my personal affairs (I’m still wading through mountains of email.), I just need to get away from all of it once in a while. So I actually took my phone of the hook on three of my days away and rarely came near this keyboard.

Did it do me any good? You bet. I even went to a candle party and dropped $200. Not because the candles were, in my opinion, any better than the ones I usually buy, but because my good friend, Jenna, hosted the party and my purchases helped make her little party a success.

So today I am taking calls and be-bopping around the Net, catching up here and there. I stopped over at Fetish Lore where so many interesting and articulate conversations are on-going that I could get lost there for days just “listening in.” The site is so well-rounded, with forums for just about every fetish flavor (Bondage, Psychology & Philosophy of D/s, Human Pet Play, Urolagnia, Chastity and Foot Worship…to name just a few) and Richard and company being so friendly and helpful that I don’t think I could recommend a better place to hang your kinky hat.

Which reminds me that I am adding a new quote to Zen Quotes. Goddess Alexandra uses it as her byline over at Fetish Lore and I just think it is so cute and funny and sassy: I am shinier than you. Therefore I must hit you with stuff. (Spoken like a true Goddess, wouldn’t you say?)

***

And last but not least, a poem from a caller who shall remain nameless:

Amazing
Thought Hazing

Explosive
Physically Convulsive

Conductive
Hypnotically Seductive

Electric
Definitely Biometric

Broken Scale
Exploding Hale

I think he had fun, don’t you?

xo, Angela

<

Three Proofs that:

Jesus was Black:
1. He called everyone brother.
2. He liked Gospel.
3. He couldn’t get a fair trial.

Jesus was Jewish:
1. He went into His Father’s business.
2. He lived at home until he was 33.
3. He knew his Mother was a virgin and his Mother knew He was God.

Jesus was Italian:
1. He talked with His hands.
2. He had wine with His meals.
3. He used olive oil.

Jesus was a Californian:
1. He never cut His hair.
2 He walked around barefoot all the time.
3. He started a new religion.

Jesus was an Native American:
1. He was at peace with nature.
2. He ate a lot of fish.
3. He talked about the Great Spirit.

Jesus was Irish:
1. He never got married.
2. He was always telling stories.
3. He loved green pastures.

THE TRUTH – Jesus was a WOMAN:
1. He fed a crowd at a moment’s notice when there was no food.
2. He tried to get a message across to a bunch of men who just didn’t get it.
3. Even when dead, He got back up because there was work to do.

Can I hear an Amen? Thanks to my sister for sending this my way.

xo, Angela