What Teachers Make, or
Objection Overruled, or
If things don’t work out, you can always go to law school

Taylor Mali

He says the problem with teachers is, "What’s a kid going to learn
from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?"
He reminds the other dinner guests that it’s true what they say about
teachers:
Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.

I decide to bite my tongue instead of his
and resist the temptation to remind the other dinner guests
that it’s also true what they say about lawyers.

Because we’re eating, after all, and this is polite company.

"I mean, you’re a teacher, Taylor," he says.
"Be honest. What do you make?"

And I wish he hadn’t done that
(asked me to be honest)
because, you see, I have a policy
about honesty and ass-kicking:
if you ask for it, I have to let you have it.

You want to know what I make?

I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional medal of honor
and an A- feel like a slap in the face.
How dare you waste my time with anything less than your very best.

I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall
in absolute silence. No, you may not work in groups.
No, you may not ask a question.
Why won’t I let you get a drink of water?
Because you’re not thirsty, you’re bored, that’s why.

I make parents tremble in fear when I call home:
I hope I haven’t called at a bad time,
I just wanted to talk to you about something Billy said today.
Billy said, "Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don’t you?"
And it was the noblest act of courage I have ever seen.

I make parents see their children for who they are
and what they can be.

You want to know what I make?

I make kids wonder,
I make them question.
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write, write, write.
And then I make them read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely
beautiful
over and over and over again until they will never misspell
either one of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math.
And hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand that if you got this (brains)
then you follow this (heart) and if someone ever tries to judge you
by what you make, you give them this (the finger).

Let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true:
I make a goddamn difference! What about you?

 *** 

Fabulous or what?  Gotta love a passionate man.

Wanna see and hear the poet recite the poem?  CLICK HERE

And then visit his fabulously put together website, where he is sporting long hair and looking damn good.   GET YOUR BUTT OVER THERE NOW

And you can READ HIS BLOG HERE

Oh, and he has some very cool STUFF FOR SALE HERE

FYI, a beloved and cherished caller, who just so happens to be an attorney, sent me this particular poem. 

Thank you Mr J.:  For the poetry you’ve learned to love (for which I happily take credit *wink*), the friendship you share, your outrageous sense of humor and your beautifully liberal heart.  Not to mention the fabulous kink you share with me … or whoever happens to pick up the phone.

xo, Angela

You may have noticed I’ve been kinda-sorta redecorating.  Blistered Lips is in its 3rd or 4th incarnation.  I am loving the new look and probably will be sticking with it for a while.  At least I hope so.  Mostly I try to keep things simple.  No matter where you find me, you don’t find a whole lot of T&A because, well, if you have a search engine, you can easily find the dirty pictures all by yourself.   (Of course if you’re in a jam and want your eye candy on the fly and with no fuss or muss, you can add this guy to your bookmarks.  Why?  Because I did.  And if it’s good enough for me, well, it’s good enough for you.)

So, yeah, not a lot of dirty pictures here. 

Except …

Here at Zen Fetish, what I have done is implemented a new editor, actually a second new editor, and am playing around with exactly which of the two better serves my needs.  My main reason for doing this is to include a thumbnail at the beginning of most entries, which wasn’t possible with the original editor.  Or maybe it was and I was just too dumb to figure it out. 

Anyway, I thought that just a little picture tying into the entry’s theme or topic, or even just to provide a bit of eye candy might be nice for my readers.  You can let me know what you think.  Really, you can.  I welcome the good, bad and ugly.  Just don’t get too ugly.  Remember, I do have a Bitch Goddess streak in me.

Also, I put my two awards up in the side bar, because I’m such an egomaniac and wanted to brag.  The Cunning Linguists Journals box?  Click on it every day.  It helps me out.  Really it does.  But just once a day.  And check out where it takes you, because there are a lot of other bloggers that you will find there, some of whom just might be your particular cup of kink.

You may also have notice the book advertisement for Fetish Sex:  An Erotic Guide for Couples.  Don’t be shy, click the link (over there —->)and read all about it.  And if you want to buy it, be my guest.  If not, that’s okay too.  It’s not that I make huge amounts of money, believe you me.  But it does make me look good as an Amazon associate.

The other thing I did was downsize the category and archives so that there is now a drop-down box for each.  It takes up way less space and is much less distracting, yet is still handily available for the enthusiastic and/or smitten visitor.

So I think it’s looking pretty good around here.  I hope you think so, too.

***

I went running around today and, besides grocery shopping, got my hair and nails (pedicure and manicure) done.  Yum yum!  I feel gorgeous.  I keep thinking I’m going to give up the fingernails, but just never can resist.  Giving up the pedicure isn’t even an option.

***

I had to fight snow on my way back home, so I’m rather tired this evening and am going to take a night off of the kink-O-phone.  You better miss me.  Or else.

xo, Angela

Bethany sent the following to me the other day, and I was just simply fascinated.  My, oh my, what a different world it was just one hundred years ago.  It gets one thinking about metaphysical philosophy and the nature of life and what it all means.

Maybe all we can do is think and, therefore be.  And that's all we've really got to go on?  

Every generation cannot possibly imagine how different the world will be for the next generation.  I mean, do you think the lady over there ever imagined her picture would show up on the internet in blog written by a girl who talked dirty on the phone for a living?  Or that nudity and sex would be pretty much out in the open, shared generously via both adult and mainstream venues?

100 Years Ago:  Statistics for the Year 1907 

1. The average life expectancy in the U.S. was only 47 years old.
2. Only 14 percent of the homes in the U.S. had a bathtub. (I would simply die.)
3. Only 8 percent of the homes had a telephone.  (No phone sex?)
4. A three-minute call from Denver to New York City cost eleven dollars.  (Who could afford phone sex?)
5. There were only 8,000 cars in the U.S. and only 144 miles of paved roads.
6. The maximum speed limit in most cities was 10 mph.
7. Alabama, Mississippi, Iowa, and Tennessee were each more heavily populated than California.
8. With a mere 1.4 million people, California was only the 21^st most populous state in the Union.
9. The tallest structure in the world was the Eiffel Tower.
10. The average wage in the U.S. Was 22 Cents per hour.
11. The average U.S. Worker made between $200 and $400  per year.
12. A competent accountant could expect to earn $2000 per year, a dentist dentist made $2,500 per year, a veterinarian $1,500 per year, and a mechanical engineer about $5,000 per year.
13. More than 95 percent of all births in the U.S. Took place at HOME.
14. Nineteen percent of all U.S. Doctors had NO COLLEGE EDUCATION.  Instead, they attended so-called medical schools, many of which were condemned in the press AND the government as "substandard."
15. Sugar cost four cents a pound.
16. Eggs were fourteen cents a dozen.
17. Coffee was fifteen cents a pound.
18. Most women only washed their hair once a month and they used Borax or egg yolks for shampoo.  (OMFG!  I HAVE to wash my hair every day.  Borax?  WTF?)
19. Canada passed a law that prohibited poor people from entering their country for any reason.
20. Five leading leading causes of death in the U. S. were: 1. Pneumonia 2. Tuberculosis 3. Diarrhea 4. Heart Disease 5. Stroke.  (Diarrhea?)
21. The American flag  had 45 stars. Arizona, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Hawaii, and Alaska had not yet been admitted to the Union.
22. The population of Las Vegas, Nevada , was only 30.
23. Crossword puzzles, canned beer, and ice tea had not been invented yet. (No crossword puzzles?  Did you hear that PQS and Puzzler?)
24. There was no Mother's Day or Father's Day.
25. Two out of of every 10 U.S. Adults couldn't read or write. 
26. Only 6 percent of all Americans had graduated from high school.
27. Marijuana, heroin, and morphine were all available over the counter at the local corner drugstores.  (God bless the good old days.)
28. Back then, pharmacists said, "Heroin clears the complexion, gives buoyancy to the mind, regulates the stomach and bowels, and is, in fact, a perfect guardian of health."
29. There were about 230 reported murders in the entire U.S.A.

So we've traded the chance of dying of diarrhea for the chance of death by murder.  Hmmm.  I guess there is always good and bad and everything in between as the world moves on.  Coffee was cheap, drugs were easily attainable and everybody was driving at a speed limit that I pretty much would like to see reinstated.  But if I couldn't bath or wash may hair everyday, well, ewww!  That is just downright unacceptable.  

So I figure God put me into just what century was best for me.  But I can't help but be curious about what the world will be like 100 years from now.

xo, Angela 

Bottom on Top:  Richard and the Caning

Okay, I gotta tell ya, I've been saving this picture forever, because I think it is just awesomely sexy, speaking to possibilities.  Possibilities?  How can that be, Angela?  After all, there are no naked girls or boys; nor is there anything remotely sexual happening.  And I say to you:  EXACTLY!    The sexual landscape is bare, except for a cane on a nondescript couch.  That's where it starts, where everything begins.  

Can you imagine entering a woman's apartment with her after a first date to see that lying there, so innocently, yet so titillating?  Or being in a submissive relationship and finding that as you walk in the door one night?  What if you were being puppy trained and you crawled into your Mistress's living room to see this?

Now you get it, don't you?  I'm sure you do. 

Well it used to be that Richard, our resident Submissive Savant, would have agreed with any of the three submissive perspectives I just described.  And I'm sure he still would, really, when you get right down to it.  But, my oh my, is he in a mood for experimentation these days, noting in a recent entry that he has separate profiles up at Collar Me … one submissive and one dominant. 

In just such a mood he wrote a most erotic piece…

I dreamt of you last night. More honestly I stroked my cock while I thought of you.

There you were with you wrists bound above your head. My canes cut into your buttocks. First the wooden cane, then the acrylic and lastly the metal one. Your flinched, your breath became ragged but you wouldn’t cry, you wouldn’t beg me to stop.

With the metal cane only I moved down to the back of your thighs. Your twitches told me that each stroke hurt. Still there were no tears. Again you wouldn’t beg. I felt like I was eating you. At least eating your pain. Finally I stopped. Sitting on a tall stool I sat near you and let my hands roam across your body. I licked some of your welts hoping to taste what I’d done to your flesh.

I yanked you around. My cane cut into the front of your thighs. You spasmed, you whimpered. Selfishly you never asked for mercy. Tiring I sat before you and planned my triumph.

I thrust my tongue down your throat. I burned with love for your strength as much as I wanted to conquer it.

Your face assumed so many beautiful expressions of anguish when my cane cut into your nipples. But no tears flowed.

Finally I released you. But had you kneel one more time before me. My fingers rifled your hair. I treasured the shudders that still racked your body and your seeming indestructibility.

Finally I raised you up as friend and equal and hugged you tightly to me.

I think I love the last line best of all.  Which is probably what I love about Richard best of all.  His beautiful humanity.

xo, Angela