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Shonda’s work talk…

For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Shonda, from Shonda-Land. I’d like to thank Debbie for giving me the honor of being a guest poster… thank you, Debbie!!

Let’s talk work, shall we? I love hearing Debbie’s tales of Greasy and Comfortable Shitter. It’s something we can all relate to, because we all have a couple of “those” people at our jobs.

At my current job I have PITA (Pain In The Ass) – He’s the man who uses everything one size bigger than what he needs. If he has to clip two sheets of paper together, he uses a jumbo paper clip. 8 sheets – it’s a medium binder clip. He also hoards things in his office, like 5 reams of paper when he doesn’t even have his own printer. And he leaves his pulled staples all over the tables. Not to mention letting his print jobs pile up on the shared printer so the rest of have to pile through his crap to grab our one page report. He basically serves as a general annoyance to everyone who works here, although no one will tell him to his face. We all smile politely while we show him how to insert a text box (again). By the time this man has learned a new process, it has already been updated.

When I did tax, I worked at a firm for 4 years, and there was a lady who I referred to as “The Beast” because she encompassed the name. She had huge gums and teeny little teeth. She smelled all the time, like she didn’t shower or something. Not only that, she used to stand at the copy machine and pass gas. She didn’t care if God Himself was in the room with her. *Toot* It was disgusting. Working there, I quickly learned that if you need to go to the bathroom, you better get in there before lunchtime. The Beast ate Chinese buffet food every day for lunch, and like clockwork would come back and absolutely annihilate the bathroom. She wasn’t quiet about it, either. If I had to put a picture to it, I would liken it to Jeff Daniels in Dumb & Dumber when he is having his bathroom troubles. And this was every day!! Not pleasant.

Last but not least, I’ll throw another one of my current co-workers under the bus – I call him Abercrombie. He’s very high up in my company, and is beautiful. He’s perfect, humble, funny, caring towards the employees, and he’s got the biggest wasp of a wife I’ve ever met in person. Actually instead of throwing him under the bus I’ll throw HER under the bus, because he’s so close to perfect she doesn’t deserve him. She comes into the office walking like some sort of show pony, looking down her nose at the rest of us who DON’T run triathlons and head up their own non-profit charity organization and interior decorating business. This is coming off as jealousy, but I can assure you it’s not. She has never taken a second to get to know anyone here, yet she makes decisions on our behalf and insists they are for the benefit of the company. Um, no, it’s for your benefit. That grey soft chair you swapped out for this nasty black stiff mesh one? It was better for my back than this one. You just wanted me to have the black one because the grey one clashed with the finish of the desk. I’ll send you the bill for my chiropractor. Oh yeah, and she doesn’t let him eat meat. Because she is a vegan she forces it onto him and also withholds meat and dairy from their children. And anything white; like white bread or white rice or white pasta. It has to be organic and made from whole wheat. Please, dear readers, hunt me down and chop my head off if I ever become this much of a controlling nagging See-You-Next-Tuesday.

Well this has certainly been a pleasure. I’m touched that I got to guest post (my first ever) and maybe this will motivate me to update my own blog more often.

Thanks for reading!

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My name is Bonnie and for the past two years, I have published a blog named My Bottom Smarts. It deals with adult spanking. Yes, you read that correctly. My husband and I are into spanking. Thanks to Debbie’s generosity, it’s my privilege to offer you a peek into this world.

For my entire adult life, I’ve been keenly aware of my status as a fudge ripple gal in a plain vanilla world. I don’t aspire to convert anyone, and I’m certainly not going to abandon my kink, but a little bit of understanding might be wonderful.

Here are ten thoughts I would like to share with open-minded folks.

1. Even if you think spanking enthusiasts are weird, please recognize this is just one aspect of our lives. In every other respect, we live like everyone else. We raise children. We have jobs. We pay taxes. We go to the grocery store. We love our families. We complain about gasoline prices.

2. We are not dangerous to anyone. Everything we do is with full consent and we are very careful so as to ensure no one is injured. Spanking is a much safer pastime than, say, motorcycling or rock climbing.

3. We have zero interest in involving children or any non-consenting person. Those kinds of illegal behavior are every bit as reprehensible to us as they are to you.

4. We are not all trying to compensate for or re-live a troubled childhood. I know lots of spanking enthusiasts and this stereotype simply doesn’t hold up.

5. Spanking within the context of a loving relationship is the diametric opposite of spousal abuse. While an abuser tries to suppress his partner’s will by force, a loving spanker seeks to fulfill his partner’s fantasies with her full participation.

6. We genuinely love one another and spanking is one of many ways we demonstrate our love and commitment. For us, spanking is another flavor of lovemaking.

7. Yes, it really does hurt. But, as odd as this may sound, the pain is a secondary consideration. What we treasure more are feelings of connectedness, peace, and openness that follow.

8. It’s not an exclusive club. Anyone can be a spanking enthusiast. In my experience, this community is remarkably helpful, caring, and inclusive. Newbies are definitely welcome.

9. Yes, as a matter of fact, sometimes we think it’s funny too. We’ll be the first to admit there is something slightly comical about a grandmother eagerly bending over to be spanked across her husband’s lap. Our kink needn’t be somber and disciplinary. Honestly, who wants that all of the time? We definitely laugh well and often.

10. There is a whole continuum of spanking enthusiasts. For some couples, spankings are playful fun. Others focus primarily upon the disciplinary aspects. Most of us fall somewhere in between. Even otherwise conventional lovers occasionally enjoy a few well-placed swats during sex. This too qualifies as adult spanking. The point is that there is no single formula. The couples who are happiest are typically those who tailor their lifestyle to their own tastes, preferences, and desires.

Understanding is the first step toward acceptance. Let this be a first step toward understanding. Spanking enthusiasts are friends, neighbors, and relatives. We’re not strange or scary. We’re merely normal, happy people striving to enjoy rewarding lives and relationships.

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I need minions. I have evil deeds that I need carried out. But, right now I need minions to volunteer to guest post for me.

I will be in Tennessee in September and won’t be able to maintain this blog for about a week, so I was thinking that if I could get people to guest post it would be great.

Do you know what’s great about guest posting on here?

You can write about whatever you want. Sex. Poop. Having sex with poop. Whatever. You can cuss and scream and be nuts. It will be awesome.

Basically, I will give my username and password to someone I trust and they will be putting up your posts. How fun is that? It’s a way to discover new writers and to have a little fun.

So, let me know if you’re interested. I expect to hear from all of you, even my lurkers. I see you all lurking out there, how about showing yourselves.

Listen minions, you have 3 weeks to decide if you want to do this and then write. I’ll be waiting for you, my loveys. Don’t disappoint me.

Now, onto some other shit.

  1. Today, while making a trip to the dollar store I came upon a man holding a tissue up to another man’s neck telling him to blow. Yes. He was blowing gunk out of his trach thingy. I gagged like a motherfucker.
  2. The construction worker I have a crush on was on the train today and he looked at me, so I smiled. He smiled back. I then saw him at lunchtime, sitting near my building and I smiled and he smiled back. Baby steps. But hopefully I’m riding that jock in the next couple months. Sorry to be so vulgar, but…..fuck it, I’m not sorry at all. I want to ride it.
  3. I’m buying an ankle brace and I’m going back out running regardless of what the doctor says. I hate sitting here with my ass expanding and feeling like a fucking blob.
  4. If I had to choose between Ed Norton and Joaquin Phoenix, I’d pick Joaquin. No question. I want to suck on that scar.
  5. Dear lovely readers, please don’t keep bugging me to link to you. If I want to, I will. Are we understanding each other? I’m also not going to keep up links on blogs that haven’t been updated in months. Sorry. I still love you, but that’s the way it is. Don’t cry to me about this. There are only 5 people that are exempt from this and they know who they are.
  6. I so totally need to be dominated, it’s not funny. I’m a submissive girl and I’ve been fantasizing in vivid detail about how I’d like to have a dom treat me. Fuck. I hope the construction worker likes to play kinky. I’m in trouble if not.
  7. I’ve been tweezing my eyebrows for about 15 years now. Why is the hair still growing? I thought that after a while the hair follicles get damaged and stop working after a while. Well, it’s not working for me. I don’t like to get them waxed because I’m a control freak and am fucking awesome at shaping my own brows, but I find it tiring sometimes. The things I do for beauty.
  8. I need to go shopping. Like hardcore shopping.
  9. I love a guy with nice thick legs. Just like the construction worker. Hmmm. Just saying.
  10. I love a guy with a little jiggle in his middle. Just like the construction worker. Hmmm.

I’m stopping now. I’m going to get myself in trouble if I talk anymore. I’m bored and feeling a bit horny and retarded. Yeah.

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All My Debbies

Today’s post is by Mist1. This made me giggle.

I have known a lot of Debbies. There has only been one that I didn’t like. I met her in college. She didn’t like to be called Debbie. She liked to be called De-BOR-ah. If you didn’t stress the BOR part, she got all huffy. She was boring and so she became known as Deboring. My roommate and I had a lot of fun with that. I also had a lot of fun with her boyfriend.

The Debbie that I’ve known the longest, prefers to be called Deb now. She has a last name that ends with the letter z. She’s the only person I know with a last name that ends in a z. I used to go to work with her because she had a big, important corporate job while I was still answering phones and looking cute for a living. I am really good at answering phones and looking cute, but Deb thought that I was wasting my talent. I explained to her that answering phones and looking cute was my talent, but she insisted that I should try something new. I became her intern. As her intern, I answered her phone while looking cute.

I know a Glamorous Debbie. She’s has a sister with a boy’s name. I love girls with boyish names like Johnnie and Billie and Sammie. Glamorous Debbie hasn’t always been glamorous. A few years ago, she married the kind of man who goes fox hunting and thus began the transformation. She’s always trying to set me up with her husband’s fox hunting friends, but I know that if I become glamorous, I will lose all touch with reality. It’s already hard enough to be me without throwing glamor into the mix.

The Debbie that I spend the most time with has tiny little teeth. They are perfectly white except when she drinks red wine, which she does every night when she cooks dinner. Then, they turn purple. She wears an apron when she cooks that says, “I like to cook with wine. Sometimes, I even put it in the food.” It is tacky, but she feels that it explains her world view. Once, when I was at her house, I did an impression of her. I took a small strip of white paper and put it in my mouth, then I paraded around in the apron, flailing my arms wildly. ” Honey,” I said to her husband, “open a bottle of wine, I feel like cooking.” I know that doesn’t sound terribly clever, but trust me, it is a riot. Her husband and I had a really good time with that one. I don’t think Debbie put any wine in the food that night.

Debbie and her best friend Kara, have lake homes right next to each other. Debbie likes to call it a lake home, but it is really a double wide trailer. It has a deck and a bath and a half and is really well landscaped. A few years ago, Debbie and Kara decided to have an annual party at the lake. Kara was in charge of the invitations. Debbie hired a caterer. Kara went tanning. Debbie bought cases of wine. Kara shopped for a new swimsuit. Just before the party, Debbie asked Kara about the invitations. ” I emailed them out weeks ago,” Kara told her. Debbie asked to see one. Debbie expected a classy event, however, Kara had other ideas.

Thus began the Trailer Trash Bash.

It is a good time. We drink and fall into the lake. This year, I will do my impression of Debbie for all to see. I’m sure it will be a hit. I hope I am invited back next year.

If you’d like to guest post, please email your post to me at freshairlover75@yahoo.com. Wanna know why the guest posting, visit this post.

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This post is from Shadowdog. Enjoy!!!

For those of you who don’t know, I’m an Indie filmmaker. In the overall hierarchy of life this ranks me just above “pre op groin shaver” and just below the dude who removes old urinal tablets and puts a fresh one in its place. We’re always broke, we never get any respect, and no one wants to watch our hideous low budget movies. Even the starving actors we employ don’t respect us … despite the fact they are even lower on the food chain. I’ll give you an example:

The other day I was holding auditions in Raleigh. I was in the back room with my little handy cam, recording the auditions. I was using a wireless microphone to record the auditioning actors’ dialogue. This is a device that you attach to your belt and then snake the tiny microphone up to your collar and attach it there. It’s very lightweight and you really can’t feel it once its in place. Plus, after first attaching it, the actors run through a ten minute audition process. My mind is on a million things during this time, and so is theirs. So it was very easy for both myself and the actors to forget they were wired up for sound. Of the 30 actors I saw that day, a good 20 of them forgot and walked out while still wired up … which meant that I could hear everything they had to say as they walked down the corridor to the waiting room. They would then have to be summoned back to remove the microphone so the next person could use it.

After a while (especially after I heard a couple ugly comments) I started remembering every time but intentionally not saying anything. If the actor forgot to remove his or her mic, I let it go because I was curious what would be said after they were safely out of my earshot.

About half of them just breathed, or said things like “I hope I did okay” or “I can’t believe I forgot that line, I’m so stupid!” Here is what the rest said, the best that I can remember. I’ll put the good news first, because there wasn’t much of it.

“Hey Anne, do you know if he’s married? I didn’t see a ring.” (this was pretty far into the day so it’s possible she had heard the horror stories since some of the actors started warning each other about not forgetting their mic, and so she was just fucking with me)

“He’s as nice as you said he would be, I wasn’t nervous at all.”

Unfortunately, that’s about it for the good. LMAO So let us now turn to the bad. Some of this was to themselves under their breath, and in some cases two actors were walking out together.

“That fatass needs to eat a salad.” (I don’t remember doing anything to piss this person off, I thought this particular audition went well)

“What an asshole! I wasn’t moving my eyebrow? Did you see me moving my eyebrow? What a dumb asshole!” (This person was my favorite because he tried to pretend he knew the mic was there and was just teasing me. THIS acting job was actually better than his audition!)

“What did he mean about my hair? He’s one to talk about hair!” (I had asked her if she was willing to dye her hair red. I guess I forgot to mention that the character needed red hair!)

“Fucking asshole.” (again, I thought this audition went well so I have no idea what this was about)

“That fat asshole isn’t going to call me back. You saw the way he looked at me at the end.” (I’m noticing a certain theme with a lot of these, and I’m not talking about my waistline)

You get the idea. But it’s okay. I’m not mad or bitter. (eye twitches) Seriously, this doesn’t bother me at all. (eye twitches)

Want to know the worst part about all this? Since I’m small potatoes, it’s not like I have access to thousands of actors. There’s a really good chance I’m going to have to hire one or more of these weasels in the future. If so, maybe I’ll serve nothing but salad. MWA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!

If you’d like to guest post, please email your post to me at freshairlover75@yahoo.com. Wanna know why the guest posting, visit this post.

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