The Silence

I've been quiet here- and I plan to be for a little while longer. I just need some time to get refocused on what's important in my life and clean out all the white noise. Don't worry, I'll be back- I never leave for long.






This is not related to my silence, but it's important just the same:

For those of you in the know.... yes, I did know some of the men who died in the shootings at work. I knew the shooter quite well- he was a really warm and funny and sweet man. A gentleman and it's very hard, not just for me- but for all of my co-workers to see him as a murderer, although that is exactly what he did before taking his own life. I am not alone in wondering, with a heart that aches for three families, and several thousand co-workers- why? As the days pass, we hear bits and pieces from witnesses who are finally willing and able to talk about it. The story gets more and more sad, more horrific, and still the only question- why?

Events like this shake up your life in ways that you never expect, and I know that many of my co-workers feel the same way. Next week they will have the memorial services and perhaps the healing process will really begin. So many unanswered questions- and sometimes the silence is deafening.

I'll be back here soon, or you can email or call me if you need me.

Occasionally half nekkid

I don't get Half Nekkid as much here anymore. With facebook links all over the place, I just get a little weird about showing off my tits to the few people that haven't seen them yet. But because it's his birthday I will show off my goodies just for Os!!!



I know I look sad and serious, but that's just because I was trying to get the picture right. HNT's are not exactly candid photos!!!

Best Best Wishes to Os today on his birthday. Thanks for always watching my back, and not just my backside.

Organized Publig Tea Bagging

It was too much funny. If you haven't seen it, WATCH.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

Haaaaaapy Tax Day.

Here's a good article from TIME Magazine. The guy who twitters for TIME has a good sense of humor so I always pick up interesting stuff. Confessions of Tax Collector. I feel pretty lucky that I haven't had to pay taxes in many many years. With all the kids, and being a single income, you know, the working class poor- the government is pretty pleased with the fact that I give it that old college try and go to work every day and they reward me for that. Perhaps I would have more disdain for the government if I did not take advantage of some of the benefits, like Tuition Waivers, Student Loans, and WIC.

If you're in the mall tonight- you can get a free mini Bite from Cinnabon.

So get the free one, and eat it while they are scooping out your REAL one!!! mmmm, I mean really, there's crack in the middle of those damn Cinnabon's isn't there???

I'm sure if you Google tax day freebies you will find some other exciting tax day stuff. I think McDonald's was giving away free cups of coffee. Oh, if you are in Baltimore.... ok, well Maryland- enjoy your free coffee.

For the rest of us, happy Wednesday.

Smoking Hot Misogyny

Eminem - New Music - More Music Videos

I know... he's rude and disrespectful to women. I don't think that anyone can argue that his music is catchy and as a rapper, he's awesome. I don't even really LIKE rap music, but I do own one of his CD's... OK, two.

I feel as a member of the estrogen club- I should dislike him. I should not like his music or watch his video every time it comes on TV, just because I like watching him dance. I fear my feminist friends will take away my girl card and strip me of my vagina privledges for admitting it.


I'm not sure what it says about me that I can't help but be kinda hot for Eminem.

Happy Easter

Mean Girls

"I know it may look like I was being like a bitch, but that's only because I was acting like a bitch. " ~Cady (Mean Girls, 2004)

I am not a mean girl.

Am I a bitch? Kind of. I'm high maintenance and yes, if you forget the hot sauce to go with my taco's, I will think that it's because you don't love me. I admit that.

However, I'm not a mean girl.

I have male friends, who's girlfriends and wives (and exes of both) who just say really horrible mean things. Who have no regard for the feelings of the person who is recieving the information. I am not going to confront you if you hurt my feelings. It will not make me feel better, nor will it make me a better person, or more right (or wrong) if I lash out and tell you that you are a rude egotistical bitch, or that you are a self-indulgent dilusional asshole. Even if it's true, it still hurts to be told it.

I have done enough damage, I think, to enough people to know that no good will come of me saying things that I KNOW are intentionally hurtful. Does this mean I'm a liar??
If you ask me, do these jeans make my ass look big? I may laugh, and say, "Honey it aint the jeans!" I mean, if you have a big ass- then you have a big ass.

I have a big ass.
I've been told it's quite awesome, so you know- I'm ok with your big ass. Then again, if you are stupid enough to ask ME about fashion advice, then you deserve what you get.

Anyway... yesterday in a temper tantrum- my less than beloved husband told me that he was 'sick of my shit' and that he was leaving. It really bothers me when he says things like that. I hate when he threatens to leave me.

He's lying. He's not going to. He tells me every few months that he's leaving me. He never does it. He says he's 'outta here'- and then every morning I wake up, and there he is!

Now maybe it's mean that I just said that... but I didn't say it to HIM! See how nice I am??

Daddy issues

and no this is not a post about spanking...

I think, growing up my parents were particularly strict. Maybe my mother was paranoid, and in ways, she was right to be. I wonder how much MORE trouble I would have been in had I had extra lee way as a teenager.

My mom's punishment I feel was disproportionate to the crimes. I missed 6th Grade Camp because I was caught passing notes in class. I stole 5 dollars and went to a boys house, and she put me in a different school. I got a job when I was a junior in high school because it was the only way I could get out of the house because I was just "globally" grounded.

My step dad was different though. My dad since I was about eight, I think. While as an adult, our relationship got much better before he died, he was really an asshole. He was just kind of a mean and nasty guy- and a pervert, which now I'm sure I could either blame or thank him for- depends on the day. I also have a few memories in which I'm certain he was incestuously inappropriate, but 20 years later- I'm hardly scathed by it.

What I remember most about my step dad was that I was short and small and he- in my memories- was about 400 pounds and 8 feet tall with this loud booming voice of disgust, disappointment, and disapproval. When he was angry, every other word was "fuck" and he used it with no regard to my age, or whoever was standing around. He called me names and told me I was stupid and all the other things that you don't say to a young girl or to a teenage girl or a grown woman- or really to anyone. I think because I was the youngest and the squeekiest wheel, I got it the worst- but maybe my siblings would disagree, I don't know.

I was no angel- I'm not claiming that, but again- there's a way to discipline and not leave the child feeling demoralized. That is what happened a lot to me.

So when my husband gets angry at the kids and yells at them, I am almost always tempted to step in. It's not that I don't raise my voice at the kids, I do. I hate being that shrill mom who is always yelling to "knock it off!" However, I try very hard not to be that mom who is yelling, "What the hell is the matter with you?!?!?" while up in the face of my small children. When I feel that my husband is doing that, or that he's just being too loud or too intimidating, I always want to go in and diffuse the situation. I want to protect them from what MIGHT be going on in their young impressionable minds- even though I don't think he's as bad as my dad was. But just in case. My husband has that big booming voice, and back in the day when we used to fight and he used to yell at me, I would go right back to that place where I felt small and intimidated and demoralized.

While he doesn't do that to me anymore, sometimes I still get weird when I hear him yelling at the kids. It bothers me, and I have to be reminded, often, to NOT undermine his efforts with the kids. I have to remember also that my step dad was NOT 400 pounds, nor was he 8 feet tall.

And I'm not a little girl anymore.

oral recovery

I'm home this weekend, spending much of my time on the couch- taking my pain meds and sleeping. Nursing my sore jaw and gums and constantly tonguing my sutures, wishing they would hurry up and heal.

It's been two days and I'm tired of soft foods although I have discovered a wonderful new soup. Campbells Chunky Potato Bacon Cheddar soup. That is the fucking bomb. My husband has been taking care of me all weekend, making my food and bringing me coffee and letting me sleep because the Codeine makes me reeeeealy sleepy. Maybe I'm sucking it up a little bit- but too much moving around and when the meds wear down, it's worse than when I'm actually resting like I should. My jaw is not swollen, but still very sore and when the pain killers wear down, all of my teeth hurt as well as this throbbing from the roof of my mouth up to my eye.

I will be happy when the big hole closes and the sutures go away- cause I keep touching them.

If you did read the post below, after you were done wiping the sweat of of your ass- you know that I had teeth extracted. 5 teeth to be exact, on the same side. Top and bottom wisdom teeth, two other molars on top and an eye tooth that was broken and beyond repair. So teeth #1, #2 #3 and #6. Along with #32.

I went for many years, either without insurance, or with HMO insurance that didn't cover much and I could never afford to pay cash for the wok that needed done. So lack of funds, neglect and just bad genes caused a lot of damage. Being pregnant/ or nursing in 2002- 2004 (2.5 years) did me in pretty good. I've lived with some form of tooth pain since then.

Finally I have better dental insurance and some extra money to pay for it. So I'm getting an upper back partial, some fillings and I will be out of pain- all for around $500. I have one more extraction of the last wisdom tooth, but she has assured me that it will be pretty easy, it's mostly tissue. While I not at all happy about being in this much discomfort, in my jaw and gums- I do not have the same kind of sharp tooth pain that made my eyes water and kept me on a constant regimine of Ibuprofen and Tylenol for years.

I will be happy when this round of aching is over. I think the next visit with the filling will be cake. And then... I promise I will go to the dentist every 6 months. I promise, I will.

My dentist office is one that is on TV. It's a Childrens office, but they see adults too. The office is owned by one main guy who is this crazy character. I saw him in the office once. He was wearing bright pink pants, and a lighter pink shirt. Both patterned. And a white bow tie, He has a white beard and mustache and kind of crazy white hair like The Colonel. Inside the brightly colored walls of the dentist office, the whole room had a bright pink hue.

It was kinda scary.

Oral Surgery- a D/s scene

I was in the chair. Mentally prepared. In the interest of time, I opted not to take the drugs Something in my mind wanted to get the over with, even if it meant that I would experience it all. I had my iPod and opted on The Hold Steady, all three albums to get me through this.

Without warning, the chair went backwards. I turned down the music so I could hear her. Open your mouth, said the voice. She was neither warm nor cold. Just so. My eyes saw the stick and the white ball going towards me, entering my mouth and the the rubbing. The taste. The tingling. She kept on for short seconds and then reached behind her.

Fuck, already?

I closed my eyes and in went the instruments. I turned up my music. Poking. Once, twice. She gave me a quick warning before each pinch, but worked quickly. "It's ok, honey" she said. But never stopping.

Hands out, and then back in again, "This one will hurt the most. Well second to the worst." Sharp and deep, but she rubbed my nose. "Focus on your nose. On your nose." She demanded. It was twisted sensation play. Focus on another body part while I tear up this one. Hands out, and then back in. "OK- this is a big one." The needle felt enormous going into the tender skin. I winced, maybe it was a groan. She ignored me, she was not concerned. Hands out, chair up and she was gone.

Alone. I stared into my surroundings. I grabbed my blackberry, twittered, texted. While the sensation left me. I was alone for what felt like a long time- but I'm sure it wasn't.

Then the girl entered the room, the assistant. I could only see her emotionless eyes and the pink streaks in her hair. The girl didn't speak, offered no comfort or calm. The chair went back and She returned. Her fingers went into my mouth again. Why this comforted me, I don't know- but it did. The latex gloves maybe. Perhaps it was because I felt safe with her in control. Confidence that she knew what she was doing- and she was going to do it without any word from me.

Music on- and we begin. It seemed simple enough to begin with. She moved between the difference spaces, going to each area, digging, pulling. The girl with the vacuum in my mouth. She seemed to rub it across my tongue a lot. I felt a design. I focused on it. I focused on the music, on the tapping of my feet. I was not there. Do as your told, Julie- and focus somewhere else. Behave. Don't struggle. Be a good girl.

Yes somewhere- my sick and twisted mind turned this into a crazy D/s scene and that is what calmed my brain. She was in control and the girl was her sub assistant. I would open my eyes to see instruments, the girls eyes behind her mask. The rubbing of the vacuum across my tongue. Fingers in my mouth, pressure, pain. Music. It was fast and hectic. It hurt, but was not torturous. I always knew when it was the big pliers. Something about the feel of it as it grabbed me. I knew. Then pressure. More pressure.

My hands grabbing on the arm rest- clenching. I was shaking from the shots, heart racing, more pressure she said, no kidding-bitch?? More pressure... closer, shaking, pressure, and give. It was like an orgasm- but without the pleasure. She was raping my mouth and I was paying for it.

When she spoke to me, I would turn down the radio but she mostly didn't other than to command me to move. Wider, Up, Open. She moved quickly, and without reason that I could determine. Some parts more stubborn than others. Then the drill.

I turned the radio loud, trying to drown out the sounds until the music was piercing my ears. I wanted to be gone from this. I wanted to stop but there we no safe words in this scene. It had to just be finished. Almost over, honey. She said. Hands out and they left the room.

Don't call me honey, you bitch. I thought. My eyes still closed and there was a bright light behind them. I put my hand over my eyes and waited for their return. I felt that they were gone a long time. Giving me a break so she could go to the victim in next room, I supposed. Until she returned again. My blood still on her gown. New gloves and her fingers back in my mouth.

The drill again, but this time I felt it more. I heard it louder. It was in my head and I could not escape it. She was pushing with the big tools, pushing lower. Why all the damn pushing, was she putting them back IN- or taking them out. I knew not to ask questions, but I wasn't sure. But I was feeling this. Wincing went to groaning, louder, until she stopped. She punished me for stopping her with the needles again. Big needles, under my tongue- in my cheek, jaw, roof of my mouth. The assistant stared down at me. Emotionless and focused. Like she was enjoying this. Perhaps if she tried to help me, she would get the needles too. I didn't blame her for following the lead. Clearly neither of us were in control of this situation. She just held the vacuum, sucking out all my blood. Not once did she comfort me. Not once did she grab my hand, or stroke my arm. No, she was enjoying this. Watching me helpless, violated.

Again. She was frustrated now- more forceful and impatient with my lack of cooperation. She was pushing against me, my neck straining, my face sore. I tried to will myself to let go. So it would stop. Please stop. No.

To the other source of her frustration, on top. She drilled, and pulled. Drill. Pull. Fuck, I wanted to stop. Please, just leave it. She grabbed and pulled- there was no more needles. This was all. My eyes started to tear, but she did not stop. I moaned out, but she did not stop. Drill. Push. Pull. "It's just a tip" she said, finally stopping.

I wiped my eyes as she went back to the bottom. My eyes closed, I did not want to see. I felt the big tool again. I was frustrated and trapped. I was done with this. I turned up the music. The Hold Steady, Yeah Sapphire. Loud.

My head was spinning. Loud music. She held my mouth open at my front teeth, I focused on the latex against my lip. The vacuum brushing, hard metal against my tongue. The bitter taste from the needles. She pushed harder this time. I felt it on the other side of my face. More. More. I held my breath and grabbed on to the arms. More.... Harder. I heard it when it happened. Release.

"There it is...." she said.

Vacuum, suction, rinse. She finally seemed slightly pleased with me. Fucking Bitch.

"One more- this tip." and she went in once more. One more, I told myself. I was pissed off now. Willing my body to cooperate. Drill. Loud, echoing in my skull and I could not drown it out. I couldn't feel it, but I could hear it- louder than anything. The big tool again- I decided, for the last time. I was so exhausted I wanted to sleep. I hurt to open my mouth, but I did as I was told. Just fucking do it, I thought to myself. Just do it and leave me the fuck alone. Pressure... harder, more. It was killing me and it felt like she was draining my eyeball though my gums. It was sadistic torture, she kept going and I didn't wince or moan. I was stoic, quiet, angry.
Just fucking DO IT!

and release.....

Fucking finally.

The rest, I practically slept through. The bone file, the sutures. This was just for her sadist pleasure now, and I didn't care. I was done. I was exhausted.

She shoved padding into my mouth, gave me some directions and left the room. She was done with me. The assistant sat me up and wiped of my face with a wet towel. She smiled at me, finally. "All done" she said, her eyes warming. She was pretty.

Sore, exhausted and dizzy, I was still somewhat shaking as I left the room.
What the hell just happened?