Sleep Abuse 

For a week solid I slept with someone else. I wish it was a sexy man with big arms and big…. Anyway, that was not the case.  I slept the entire time with one of my sisters kids so not only did I not get some hainky-painky, I had to sleep with clothes on (which I hate)! 

Now, I have been a monogamous kind of woman most of my life. These last two years have been the longest I’ve ever been single. So, needless to say I am used to having a man sleeping next to me. I have spent more nights next to a man than alone. With that said I have experienced the full range of sleeping issues from snoring so loud the mattress would vibrate, sleep walking, talking (which is just a form of sleep walking), farting. Hell, I’ve even been pee’d on. But, I have got to say, none of that prepared me for sleeping with either of my sisters kids.  

I spent most of the time With the youngest who is 11.  She would keep to her side of the bed as she was falling to sleep which was nice. However, she was absolutely traumatized when I tried to come to bed in just a tank top and underwear.

“Auntie where are your pants?!” She demanded. 

I tried to reason with her that my outfit was no different from what i would wear to the beach but she was adamant. “Put some shorts on!” 

Then she would proceed to wake me up every single night at least twice, doing any one of the following things: elbowing me in the back, kicking me, pulling my hair or by making a weird slurping noise like she was sucking her moms tit still. On the last night I was so exhausted from getting 6 days of shit sleep that when she woke me up Trying to push me off the bed with her feet, I actually started to whine and kind of lost my shit. “Katherinnnnnneee. STOP! Please! Or I swear I’m kicking you out of this fucking bed!” 

Not knowing why I was so upset she just rolled over and went back to sleep. 

I got to sleep with my oldest Neice for two nights in the middle of our trip and was almost relieved to get a break from the nightly beating I had been getting from her little sister. Much to my dismay sleeping with her was not that much better.  She would click the entire night. I have no idea how she does this, her mouth doesn’t move at all yet the sound similar to that of a ticking clock, ricochets off every wall in the room. Then she would posture in her sleep. She would strike a weird pose with her arms outstretched or elbows and knees up and just freeze like that.  Her body would be rock hard set in what ever position she was in.  It was like sleeping next to someone with rigor mortis. It was the most insane thing. She is a dancer so maybe she was literally striking a pose? I don’t know?

All I know is I couldn’t wait to get back home to my own magnificent oversized bed. I knew I would enjoy every moment of my naked solitude and end up sleeping completely spread equal in the middle of my mattress, just because I can!  Don’t you know that is exactly what I did. And when I woke up this morning after a full night sleep, I went right back to sleep for another three hours because I needed the sleep so badly. 

Just Another Vacation in LoLa-Land 

Advertisements

Socks A Must

I had a date recently with a man I’ve known for awhile as just a friend. We met almost 1 1/2 years ago at a group party.  I never thought about him as anyone I would date but when he asked me to go on a hike with him, of course I said yes. We had such a good time we decided to go over to his house afterwards where he promised to make me dinner (again how could I resist)?

I had a great time at his place hanging out and jaw jacking with him as he cooked for us in this mammoth grill he had outback. He got me a yummy red wine to go with my steak (there went all the calories I had burned off). I was touched by his thoughtfulness and surprised how much I was enjoying his company because he was not someone I would normally date at all. He is Very geeky and not very good looking at all. He is the kind  of guy who laughs the loudest at his own jokes and snorts when he does. (Not that he did that on our date).  But, he was funny and oddly quirky which kept me hanging on for more.

I quickly discovered as soon as I got to his home, which was both beautiful and immaculate; that he must have OCD. He had a straight up attack dog I had to spend 14 mins introducing myself too before coming in, about five locks on Every door, (he even had locks on rooms in the house and certain closets) and an alarm. I thought it all a bit off because besides a nice TV the man had nothing in his home that was purchased  in this decade. He wasn’t growing weed or anything. I do believe it had something to do with his disorder.  

At some point I realized I had  too much to drink, as had he. He said I could spend the night and he would be a perfect gentleman and not put the moves on me unless I asked him to. That way I could hang out longer and we could keep playing cards.  (Of course before we played he had cleaned up all signs that a meal was even had at all). 

When it was time for bed he started his obvious routine of locking all the doors again and making sure the dog had gone out. I went into the bathroom and put on the large tshirt he gave me to sleep in. After I brushed my teath with my finger and took off my jeans, I walked out of the bathroom to find him standing completely naked in front of me except for a pair of white calf high socks.  Even though I was quite impressed with his physically chiseled body and extreamly large penis; the fact that he was standing there with just socks on was so unexpected I was cracking up. 

“Why are you laughing” he asked me. 

“Where are your clothes”? I asked. 

“I told you I wouldn’t put the moves on you. I didn’t say I wouldn’t sleep naked like I normally do” he replied. 

“Fine” is said and shrugged “but one more question”?

“What’s that” he asked?

“Socks?” I asked and we both looked down at his cotton clad feet.

“I Have to wear them when ever I sleep” was his response. (I told you he was quirky). But, recognizing he was OCD I knew enough to not bother pushing it because I just wanted to go to sleep. He was true to his word and didn’t lay a finger on me all night. 

Just another crazy date in LoLa-Land

Lingerie

I think you liked your Christmas present
I wrapped it up special just for you.
It took awhile to find what you think pleasant
So I could act like it was easy to do

It took going to three stores at Christmas time
Rubbing elbows with strangers galore
It took me hours to get just the right find
Shopping in those crowds is something I abhor

Lavender is not easy to find in the winter
You couldn’t ask for something black?
When I was done my foot had a splinter
And I had a painful ache in my back

Your eyes said it all when I walked in the door
They scoured my body from head to toe
Making your growling sound, asking for more
I did a spin so you could get a good show

Your hands had to feel me instantly
As you delighted in my every angle
“Did you get this just for me baby?”
“You look like a beautiful Christmas Angel?”

There was just enough cotton and lace
All designed to entice your need to explore
Knowing the set would make your heart race
Your reaction was just what I was hoping for

I stood exposed wearing your favorite color
I was extremely happy you seemed pleased
I wanted to do something special for my lover
What’s wrong with a little holiday tease?

Breasts of all Kinds

I had the funniest thing happen the other night, but it’s all par for the course in my life. One of my girlfriends and I were driving to a show when we started discussing boobs. She has very very small boobs but they are in proportion with her very small body.
She asked me what it was like to have boobs. I told her ” it isn’t all that great. Do you know how tired I am of carrying these thing around?”
” no ” she says as she laughs ” how tired are you?”
” my favorite thing is when my lover comes up from behind and holds them up for me. It takes all the weight off my shoulders and I instantly feel better.” I replied.
She just nodded, then we went clubbing and hours later, when my girlfriend and I got back to my house, we were just walking through the front door, when she came up to me from behind, pulled up my shirt and then unhooked my bra, and just let my boobs fall into her hands. Instantly I was like “awwwww!” And she laughed because it was exactly as I had said, a instant relief.

Then my friend who was with us walks over closer to us. Without a word being said to her about our earlier conversation and nothing had been said since we walked in the door. And without saying a word herself she pulls up her shirt and then her bra herself, and shows us the most amazing perfect boobs I have ever seen; and they were real. Her skin was like a mocha color and her nipples like a slightly darker tan, and they were small and quarter size. Her boobs themselves were perfectly full and round and still right where they should be, and she’s 40!
I can’t get them out of my mind. So of course seeing these perfect breasts, both my other friend and I, had to feel her boobs. My friend promptly let go of my books (the weight came crashing back down on my shoulders), but I hardly noticed, because I was just as awestruck by this perfect pair of breasts in front of me, as she was. We both walked over and got a good feel of her Tata’s.

It was all very odd and funny as hell. I’ve never had a girlfriend cup my breasts before and I can’t say I’ve felt up to many woman. But, I’ll tell you what, I can not get my friends boobs out of my head. Since then I have felt like I have a very inferior chest.
Oh well Just another Crazy night In LoLa-land

Ass-byss

Have you ever wondered why some men can’t find their wallet and keys?  Have you ever looked for hours with them trying to find one or the other?  I did this a month ago, I searched every nook and cranny for a set of keys.  I was on a date and we were at a company party and we had been ALL over the location we were at.  So, we knew the keys could be ANYWHERE!  And it wasn’t just us, his entire company was looking for the elusive keys.  It wasn’t until I came up behind him and grabbed his butt that all was resolved.  He had not realized that his keys were in his back pocket the entire time.  This is, I believe do to the Assbyss!  (This is a new term that I am now coining!)  The Assbyss is where you lose things in the back of your jeans.  There by going to the Abyss that resides near your ASS!  This is typically a problem for the men in the world whose pants are too big for them.  Or the young guys who actually like to wear their pants with the waste hanging out down around their knees.  They have no idea what is in their pockets because their pockets are no where close to touching their bodies or their ass’s.  

I think that society as a whole should be doing what we can to affectively change the Assbyss phenomenon from happening!  Think of the countless hours of searching for lost articles that we would not be needed!  What if we simply walked up to these guys and pulled their jeans up for them? 

“excuse me!  What the hell !?  Why are you yanking on my belt loops?”  He asks

“Oh I am sorry, I was just following through with a public service announcement to stop useless searching and just make you are aware of whats in your Assbyss!  Did you actually mean to have your underwear hanging out?  Did you not want the waste of your pants to actually reside on your waste, where they belong?”  I would ask.

I think this would be a good Service to perform for two reasons, 1- we would save time and energy on random searches.  2- maybe then we wouldn’t have to look at all these men with their underware’d butts  hanging out.

(Small note- to give my date some credit, he was not one of these types of guys who pulls his jeans down past his butt.  He was just having a skinny day and things were not fitting him right.)

2nd hand undies

I am just fine with 2nd hand goods.  I am not too proud to take anyone’s left overs.  Especially lately, I have never been so poor in my life. But, there are somethings that I will NOT use second-hand.  I simply draw the line at underwear and swimsuits!  I know, I know they either have been washed or could be washed.  I realize I could boil the crap out of them (no pun intended) and they would be considered by all standards clean.  But, I would still feel very weird about the whole thing.  I know it is no different from sleeping in a hotel rooms bed naked and I can do that without a second thought.  But, I would rather go “commando” then wear someone else’s underwear. ..

Sak Hammock

I have another possible invention that I came up with while talking some of my girlfriends the other night.  We were discussing (please don’t ask me why) the issues that some men have with sweaty balls.   Some men just hate to wear underwear while they are lying around the house on the weekend. And then their Junk starts to stick to their inner thigh and they get all itchy.  And well lets admit it as a woman watching a man go to town scratching his neither regions is something that leaves you cold and vulnerable.  So, I was thinking what if we invented a “Sak Hammock”, a small, thin, soft, breathable piece of material that would essentially hold up and keep nice and secure any mans elephant trunk and ears.  It would not be one size fits all; but, rather come in a variety of shapes and sizes.  Now the 1 thing I get hung up on is where I would suspend the “Sak Hammock” from?   I see it almost like a surgeon’s mask.  A piece of material with two loops hanging from either side.   Originally, I figured we could just hang the loops from the mans ears because, men never use those anyway.  And then the man still has full use of his hands..  But, as I think about it longer I realize that Suspending the “Sak Hammock” from ones ears could be  a strain on ones neck if one is well endowed. Or there is the obvious problem, which is what is, what if the ” Sak Hammock” color clashes with what you are wearing?

I don’t know, I think I need to go back to the drawing board on this one.

Bra Shopping

It must be a week for underwear, because when I won the most bunko’s prize last weekend, my dear sweet friend looked at me, then looked at my boobs and said, ‘Maybe you should take that money and go buy yourself a new bra”. Most people would probably be irritated or maybe even a bit offended by this comment.  I on the other hand laughed and then said, “that is a good idea” as I grabbed my jugs and walked away. 
today I went to Bra store and the sales clerk or brassiere technician, and I go into the dressing room.  Where I am now instructed to take off my shirt and I proceed to have this complete stranger wrap her arms around my back with a measuring tape to measure for my size.  She was trying really hard not to touch me and she did just fine.  But, it is weird, being half-naked in front of a perfect stranger.  It is even more weird, to have them so close to you and then letting them just take information from you (like your bust size), without even having a meal or a cigarette with them first.  I didn’t even know this womans name and she was so close she could have just laid her head in my bosom.  While she was taking my cup size measurement, I was looking everywhere in the small room but at her.  It was like when you go to the gynecologist the last thing you want to do is sit there and look at the doctor, as they are head first in between your legs.  I was also thinking, “Thank god im not a lesbian or I would probably become turned on”  and have some outward sign that I was.

The “over the shoulder bolder holder master” determined my size and promptly left me alone in my cell (oops I mean room).  After waiting for what felt like an eternity she returned with an assortment of beautiful breast torture devices.   Now, trying on bras sucks to say the least.  I actually  hate to try on Bras. It’s up there with Wedding dress shopping, but without the 400  lbs of lace and taffeta to deal with. You still get the scratches all over your chest from the lace and the bra straps. You start to feel like you’re putting sandpaper on your body.  With each bra comes a new issue, one bra my boobs actually fell out of the cup. The second bra made me look like Madonna’s cone phase.  The third bra was way to small and I ended up with four tits.  Which is a great look when you’re wearing a low-cut reveling dress and trying to get someones attention.  But, it is quite a different look when wearing anything normal. 

Finally I tried on one that fit good, felt ok, not to scratchy, but; the damn thing is black.  Don’t get me wrong black bras are sexy and necessary.  But, if you know me you know what a slob I am.  Most of the time when I get home in the middle of the day I will have food on my shirt, ink marks on my hands and dirt on my butt (usually from falling).  If I need to leave for another appointment, which I usually need to do.  I grab a change of shirt and dash out the door.  It is usually half way through meeting with a client that I realize I am now wearing a white tank top with my new black bra and I am a close resemblance to Poor White Trash.   I start to wonder to myself if they think I am selling some other service? 
It’s just another day in LoLa-Land

Pantie Issues

I went shopping for panties with a friend today.  I wanted to try these new style of panties that are like the board shorts or boy cuts but with the bottom of your butt cheeks hanging out.  I thought, “These could be sexy…” and so I tried some on.  Thank God I did, because they looked horrible on me!  My body was not made for this particular style, just like it is not made for womans briefs!  They looked just like granny panties but with hot pink lace.  I freaked out when I looked in the mirror and I thought I could see my nana’s ass staring back at me. 

Then I tried on some Boy shorts which are just like mens briefs, and they looked really cute on me.  But every single pair the store had, had some catchy phrase written on them.  Or they were Golden rode yellow with orange lace or leopard.  I just have the hardest time with words written on my butt.   I start to realize that My ass has suddenly become a billboard.  Because what was written in normal size print before I put the damn panties on has now stretched to 48″ font.  I could literally stand on the side of the road and you would be able to read my ass, It probably wouldn’t even be blurry.   And the words are alway so fricken lame, like; Insert coin here, Catch me if you can,  Sugar and spice and everything nice.  Hello I am not 8 anymore, why not throw a couple of lollipops on those things too.  (Oh wait, they had those too.)   What is a girl to do?

My First G-String

Me and Sheri a few years later

When I was in highschool my sister Sheri tried to convince of the vertues of G- Strings, over bikini cut panties. She said to me, “If you wore a G-String, you wouldn’t feel like picking your butt all the time.” This was an argument that seemed a bit weak to me, since G-Strings simply stayed in your ass. Why would I not feel like picking my butt all day? Of course I said nothing, because I worshiped my big sister and thought she was a goddess. I said nothing when she told me she was taking me to buy a pair. Just happy to have her energy and time, I joyfully excepted the sure to be tortures underwear-gift and we set off for the mall. Now buying panties has never been a humiliating experience before so I wasn’t scared. I now realize how tragically mistaken I was. As soon as we arrived my sister called for help from the store clerk and proceeded to fill her in on what a disgrace my underwear situation was. I soon became these two womans pet project if you will. Throwing me into the changing room which soon began to feel like a small prison with mirrors instead of bars. They demanded I take off my clothes so they can access my shape and try to determine by the girth of my ass what size I would be.  Humiliated, is probably the best word to describe how I felt at this point.  As my beautiful size 0 sister and this knock-out, size 2 store clerk, start to access my size 13 white-pimpled, full-moon of an ass.  They whisper for a minute between themselves, as I stand naked and exposed in my mirrored cell. 
“Let’s start with a medium or large” the clerk says
“I think a large.” Sheri replies
My sister, an avid dancer and health food junkie, turns to me and says, “Sweetie when we leave here let’s go to the book store and we can get you some great books on nutrition.  So, you can see what not to eat.  Are you still eating Pizza?”
Checking my reflection in the mirror quickly to make sure there is not still red pizza sauce stuck in the corners of my mouth from lunch, I reply, “Sometimes… but not that often”.  I then checked my reflection again to see if my nose was starting to grow.  Sheri looks at me suspiciously and then finally closes the curtain.  Leaving me alone in my full-moon, mirrored cell of torture and realization!  I haven’t even tried the damn G-string on yet and already I hate it.   They bring me in 3 different types of G-string and I would tell you about them If i could remember, but I resented all two inches of those panties.  So, I have burned their memory from my mind.  The three of us deciding on one black cotton pair.  Yes it was the three of us, as both clerk and sister stood in the door way watching with curtain open as  I tried on each pair.  When we got to the check stand my sister walked away.  I took out my wallet and bought the wretched underwear. 
The next day as I am getting ready for school my sister comes in as I am getting dressed to make sure that I am wearing my new underwear.  “You want me to wear them to school?” I dramatically exclaim, horrified and the thought of wearing them all day.  But, I didn’t want to disappoint her.  She had taken all that time to work with me on my underwear issues and she was so excited to see me off on my first day of G-String land.  What could I do tell her no?  So, I change my underwear as she stays and discusses my, “food choices” one more time with me. 
I get bored really easy, especially if what I am doing or listening too has no interest to me what so ever.  And In highschool, boys were pretty much all that interested me.  So, when I would sit in class for an hour at a time I would start to slouch and slide down in my seat.  Then sit up and then eventually slide back down from boredom.  Normally this would not be an issue for me.  But on G-string day, it was no good at all!.  I started to feel like my ass and vagina were stuck in some sort of midlevel torture device.  It felt like I was starting to be sliced in two from the bottom up!   And there was no way to slyly pick my butt.  Painfully I waited through each class, desperately trying to remind myself not to slide down, not to move.  And then as soon as class was over and I had a discreet location to stand in or some friend to use as a human shield I would reach my finger down the back of my butt and slide the dental floss from the depths of my pubic region.  I never wore those G-strings again.  (well not that pair anyway…. )

Previous Older Entries

Coloring Project – The Frog

Frog

2010 Summer Reading List

Sookie Stackhouse, the complete stories A touch of Dead
Finger Prints & Facelifts
His First Wife, Gracce Octavia
The promise of happiness, Justin Cratwright
Silk & Shadows
Wifey
The Honey Thief
The marriage
Ya ya Sisterhood book # 3
The Other Boleyn Girl
Wishful Drinking, Carrie Fisher
3 book flower series by Nora Roberts
The Kept woman
Twlight book # 4
twlight book #3

Coloring Project – The Swan