Figure One: My very favorite author, whose fiction has cheered me up immensely during trying times now follows me on the Twitter. I can die happy!
If you're all "Tiffany WHO?" and enjoy the sex, good writing, and well-rounded characters you'll fall in love with, you should go and read this:
and then this:
and then this:
And then you and I can wail and gnash our teeth TOGETHER because the fourth book, The Mistress, isn't out until July 30th.
Disclosure: Those are affiliate links.
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Oh my goodness, y'all. I just spent my entire day off and most of today's morning off positively WALLOWING in the writing of one Tiffany Reisz. Like you know how if you give a cat a big ole pile of catnip, they do that thing where they take a bite, fling themselves down on their backs, and twist around with a look on their face like "yes, I know, I'm ridiculous but this is just SO GREAT?" That.
Sometimes a good distraction is the most wonderful thing in the world, and for as long as I was buried in the books, novellas, and short stories, my tooth didn't hurt and my head didn't hurt and I wasn't worrying about money or anyone's health or the fact that someone done lost their mind at one of my jobs (yes, again, no, not the same person, a different one--we're an unstable lot in the service industry, what can I say).
It was grand.
Especially when I found that the author has a website where she not only publishes the odd freebie, but also does nice things like auction signed copies of her work (including a chapter of her not-yet-released next book) and a phone call from her to benefit those affected by Hurricane Sandy via the American Red Cross. I'd totally bid on that if I had money to burn, purely because PREVIEW CHAPTER (not so much the signed books, as I have an enire shelf full of those from the many amazing writers I met during my MFA program years and I kind of feel like signed books are overrated, in a don't-touch-those-maybe-someone-will-die-scandalously-and-make-us-rich-on-eBay kind of way, or the phone call because I hate the phone, but I suppose I'd suck it up and talk to my new favorite author for a bit, you know, to be polite).
If kinky sex is not your thing then a) I'm terribly sorry for you and b) probably you won't enjoy Tiffany Reisz's work but if it is (or even if it's not ACTUALLY your thing but something you like to read about OTHER people doing) you should absolutely check out the books and the website, and if kinky sex and CHARITY are both things you like and you're filthy rich you should go and bid in that auction. And maybe give me your preview chapter of The Mistress. We'll call it a finder's fee. GO!
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* Yes, I've decided that that is why I fall back on bullets when I want to post but am having trouble finding the words I want to use. Sometimes it's because I'm more aware than usual of unfriendly eyeballs reading (if you're not the known sociopath I refer to as Stalky then that is at least 95% NOT about you so RELAX, non-threatening unfriendly people of Earth!), sometimes it's because I'm trying not to wallow in the negative, sometimes it's because I have a wretched headache...and sometimes it's all of the above.
* Today it's all of the above. I had a dream last night about CATHERINE! reading my blog, money woes are worse than usual lately, and I had to instruct Hotter this morning to shove my nightguard in my mouth afterward if he's going to sex me into a coma in the future (heh).
* Am I worried about CATHERINE! reading my blog? Not really. I don't want to hurt her feelings, because she seems like a nice person (although I am still aggravated with her when I think about that damn ear candle...be that as it may if medical ignorance is someone's worst sin they're doing aight in my book so if she's reading this I hope she doesn't take that personally) (note that I didn't say "medical ignorance and poor taste in men:" while the XY would be an extraordinarily poor informed choice in a man, he is positively gifted at making himself out to be the lovably bumbling victim of a series of unfortunate events rather than the damnably lucky bastard who only ever pays for 5% of his--potentially at least partly unwitting given that his mother is a real disaster of a human being--crimes against humanity), and I would hope she'd have the levity to take my impression of her with a huuuuge grain of salt given that it is largely based on the second-hand impression three inherently unreliable sources I gave birth to have passed on in the information they occasionally volunteer about her. Any negative feelings I have toward her over anything OTHER than the ear candle (and her purported inability to enforce a civilized bedtime, although it's not really her fault my ex made of habit of dumping three children who aren't hers and who she probably really wants to like her on her until I put the kibosh on that) are largely not her fault. I hate the fact that the XY will potentially marry her and have access to her funds to make my life difficult in court, but ultimately if that comes to pass it'll eventually suck more for her (when it finally dawns on her that she's been had to the tune of thousands by a conman) than it will for me (I hate court and can't afford it, but I'm not genuinely concerned that the XY would stand a chance in hell of prevailing on matters of custody and that's what I care about most--money is just money and will always suck for me due to student loans, debts the XY ran up in my name, and the medical bills everyone I love is prone to). If anything I feel sorry for her, and maybe that in and of itself would piss her off, but it's the honest truth and no more or less than I'd tell her to her face if she asked me directly. I think if we got trapped in an elevator, independent of the XY's existence in both our lives, we'd probably emerge fast friends. I hope the XY really HAS changed since our divorce, mostly for my kids' sake but also for hers (although I'm extremely skeptical). The worst thing that might come of her reading my blog is the XY getting pissed at me for having it, which would be nothing new (he hated my blogging during our marriage) and not likely of any consequence to me, so no, I'm not worried about it. Maybe I should thank my subconscious for the subtle reminder to be kind, just in case?
* Money woes: GAH. Hotter is being sued by a hospital, which given that some of the plates are already wobbling menacingly on top of their sticks and I only have two arms, makes me feel positively ill. Life goes on.
* The headache, in case anyone was wondering, sucks but I can't say it wasn't worth it, so at least there's THAT :)
* How are all of YOU?
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* Work today was tense. PseudoCorp's Board of Governors is getting ready to convene for some kind of...whatever it is they do...next week and everyone's sphincters were puckered accordingly. People were setting up scaffolding to POLISH THE BUILDING and running around panicking over posters and signs and holding Very Important Meetings. I asked The One Who Dislikes Me if there was anything I needed to know in advance of the vistors' arrival and she said "well, you know, this is all very high-profile, so make sure you're presentable." MAKE SURE I'M PRESENTABLE. OH I SEE, THEN I SUPPOSE I OUGHT TO CANCEL MY PLANS TO SHOW UP TO WORK IN MY PINK FUZZY BATHROBE WITH MY NIGHTGUARD STILL IN AND TAKE A DUMP ON THE RECEPTION DESK. LOLZIES! I'M GLAD WE HAD THIS LITTLE CHAT. Oy.
* Caps-lock outrage aside, The One Who Dislikes Me is kind of starting to grow on me. Or possibly I'm developing a wee touch of Stockholm Syndrome.
* The MFA Minivan had been pulling to the right since I had the tires rotated with the last oil change a couple of weeks ago, and seeing as how I'm working out of town at Weekend Warrior job both tomorrow AND Sunday I decided to take it in on the way home from PseudoCorp and have MFA Mechanic check it out. My main fear was that possibly something was up with the tires and I didn't want to have a blowout. They switched the tires around and now it pulls to the left, so it needs an alignment, which they said could wait until next weekend, which is my next day off, as long as I keep both hands on the wheel while driving it until then. Which given that I take surface roads it's hard to fap on the way to work anyway, so I can totally do that.
* The mechanic who helped me today was not MFA Mechanic himself, nor was it any of his sons, but rather Other Mechanic. And Other Mechanic...well, he totally hit on me. And no, I'm not flattering myself here; he was all asking me about my job and my hobbies and calling me "babe" and then he gave me his card and said I could call him any time. I'm not terribly offended; while I think it's in poor taste to hit on a woman wearing a wedding ring, Other Mechanic didn't invade my personal space or say anything sexually explicit or anything like that so it was less of a "HOW FUCKING DARE YOU" and more of a "OMGHAAAAA SRSLY?" It's kind of funny (more funny-weird than funny ha-ha), though, because I am the heaviest I've ever been non-pregnant and personally think I look like crap, and I'm getting hit on and eyed up more lately than ever before in my life. I asked Twitter and my husband about this and the general consensus is that the mens do not care about my BMI because I tend to gain weight in my chest and OMG TITTIES! Which...well, just wow. It's amazing to me what men will overlook if there are big boobs about.
* As soon as I got home from the mechanic's, Hotter jumped my bones (it's an Away Weekend for the MFA Children), because apparently OMG TITTIES + the urge to mark territory = UNF UNF UNF UNF!
* Oh, mens. Y'all so crazy. Bless your hearts.
* This blog is the shizz. I'm giving y'all the link by way of emergency reading material in case Humorless Felony Guy shows up at Weekend Warrior Job and has me hauled off in handcuffs and I can't make bail. You're WELCOME!
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* I left work today and went straight over to the zoning office to turn in the grandfathering paperwork for the MFA Flock (we had to collect statements from neighbors, etc. to include with the application and fee, so it took a little while, but the super-nice zoning guy was okay with that). We'd been biting our nails over this and hurrying everything along as best we could, and...the clerk placidly informed me that these things take ninety days to process, so check back if we haven't heard anything from them by...mid-February. SERIOUSLY?
* One of the security guards at work seems to be sweet on me. Obviously I am not interested in him at all, but it did give me a much-needed boost, since I've been pretty depressed about my body lately (I'm fat...REALLY fat...like as in if our Thanksgiving turkey perched on my shoulder I'd weigh what I did when I waddled into Labor and Delivery all three times...this is part of why I started running).
* An MFA Child (I'm not saying which) recently announced that he had both a girlfriend AND a boyfriend. INTERESTING! Obviously the MFA Children are familiar with the concept of heterosexuality, and we've covered homosexuality, but we hadn't discussed bisexuality at all (which is kind of funny when you consider that Hotter and I are both bi). So I remedied that (without "outing" either Hotter or myself, because I don't think the MFA Children need to know THAT MUCH about their parents' sex lives at this stage in the game) (and also because as I've mentioned before, in this state people have LOST THEIR KIDS over their sexual orientation, and if the XY is going to sue me for custody soon, and I think he may, I don't need his lawyer telling the judge that I'm exposing the children to unsavory concepts, and I KNOW, I KNOW, but better safe than sorry). I'm not sure if the kid was saying it just to see what our reaction would be or whether this is genuinely A Thing, but I guess time will tell.
* How are all of YOU?
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Today I went by my OB/GYN's office for a checkup. I saw the nurse practitioner, because I actually prefer them as clinicians if I'm going in for a yearly exam or a non-surgical problem (my OB/GYN herself is impossible to get in to see anymore if you're not pregnant or in need of surgery anyway). She came into the room, noted that it'd been a while since they'd seen me in the office (I uh, hadn't been back to the girly-doctor since the hysterectomy/tumor removal extravaganza of '09) (don't look at me like that; I was tested for everything under the sun JUST IN CASE after leaving the XY '08 and have only slept with Hotter since then), and then, pointing to my wedding ring, said "I guess I don't need to ask you about any new sexual partners!" (which in my case she didn't but I have enough polyamorous friends and friends who are married but "play well with others" that I don't think she should necessarily make that assumption...). "We can still test you for STDs though, if you're worried that he might've..." (again with the assumptions: who says it's always the man who cheats in a monogamous relationship? I've never cheated on anyone, but plenty of women do). I cut her off and said "no, no...even if I thought him capable of such a thing* he's got donor organs so The Clap would prolly kill him; it's one of my favorite things about him, actually!"
She about died, y'all. First she blinked in shock, then she said "oh..." and then she got the giggles and about died of them. "It...probably would...haaaa..." she gasped, before finally composing herself. I guess they don't get that one a lot. Heh.
* No, Hotter is not incapable PHYSICALLY of the sex act, but in addition to just not being the cheating type he can't DRIVE and we don't have public transportation in our neighborhood, so if I'm not home I know he's where I left him. And our neighbors are all retirees and/or very unattractive. Plus he usually has the kids. So. Yeah.
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Hotter: Did you set security questions on our bank account?
MFA Mama: Yep. For you, too. You're WELCOME.
Hotter: Heh. Wanna tell me what it is?
MFA Mama: I set yours up for YOU. So just, you know, answer them.
Hotter: I don't know the QUESTIONS.
MFA Mama: Oh. The first one is your spouse's middle name. XXX.
Hotter: XXX?
MFA Mama: Yes. Well...actually it's YYY. Great. I FORGOT MY OWN MIDDLE NAME.
...
MFA Mama: No, wait, actually I'm a GENIUS. The XY could never remember XXX; I changed it to YYY when I married him because that was part of my maiden name. SEE? ONLINE SECURITY.
Hotter: Haha. So is it XXX or YYY?
MFA Mama: XXX for purposes of online bankng. YYY on my driver's license.
Hotter: What about on your birth certificate?
MFA Mama: XXX. But it's YYY on my social security card. I'M HAVING A MIDDLE IDENTITY CRISIS NOW. THIS IS WHY MARRIAGE IS STUPID.
Hotter: Imma call you XXX from now on.
MFA Mama: You do and the next time you fall asleep you'll wake up wearing one of THESE:
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In the name of full disclosure, that right there is an affiliate link. Because just on the off-chance one of y'all was in the market for a peen-cage, I would never pass up the opportunity to say I made money from the purchase of such a device. Thanks to Dead Cowgirl for putting the peen-cage in my brain :)
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Today was going to be really special, y'all.
Since the XY took Middly to the doctor yesterday, and asked if he could leave the other two MFA Children home to avoid the cooties and take everyone out to eat today instead, when Middly's antibiotics had kicked in and he could take all three of them (so reasonable! I think THAT'S why I didn't cry in front of him yesterday, honestly: I was more shocked than I'd be if Bumpus turned to me right now and asked if I wanted him to make me anything for dinner)(how messed up would that be though, seriously? There's nothing to make for dinner! But dogs are stupid and it would be kind of bigoted of me to blame him, since he doesn't have thumbs to use on the refrigerator door. Bygones!), Hotter and I were going to have an evening ALONE.
Bow-chicka-motherfucking-wow-wow.
I mean, it's not like MOST people can't have Stealth Sex while children are asleep elsewhere in the house if they lock the bedroom door and put Pandora on, but Hotter is not MOST people and the last time we attempted this he insisted on leaving his boxers on in case the sickly child threw up and he suddenly had to dash to the rescue, the end result being like silk-dyed Easter eggs. You know, if by Easter eggs, you mean my vagina and...yeah.
You can totally tell the lack of sleep and all the hanging out with crude-assed construction workers working construction at night is effing up my sense of decency.
Anyway.
So the MFA Children are gone. I am unusually well-rested because the foreman let us leave an hour early this morning and I was able to actually FALL ASLEEP when I got home because everyone ELSE was sleeping instead of running around getting ready to start their day (SEVEN! HOURS! I so needed that!). Hotter, being the girl of the relationship, expects me to ask him about his day and make some conversation before I try to rip his pants off (whatever, Hotter) and so I suavely started to read a post from one of y'all's blogs that I had particularly enjoyed from my Blackberry on my 3 a.m. "dinner break" aloud to him, and...then I heard snoring. Because while I was sleeping he was mobilizing the troops for the day and dealing with the poultry and the garden-watering and cleaning house, and he's currently passed out on the couch and I'm totally not getting laid until next Wednesday at the earliest.
DateFAIL.
I can't even snuggle up to him because he's draped at an odd angle across the couch. I guess I'll go take a nap in the bed.
How are all of YOU?
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This may be a bit more crass than you are used to reading from me. If purple prose inflames your sensibilities, click here to look at babeh kittehs and other cute things.
Moments after making sweating, trembly love, the kind where even if you braid your hair first it ends up in cool, damp mats afterward, having tumbled into our robes, my husband and I passed in the hall and he kissed me with a mustache still wet from drinking water with his pre-bedtime pills, I grabbed him by his belt and said...
THAT'S IT, I'M CUTTING YOUR MUSTACHE. Tomorrow, he said consolingly. RIGHT NOW. I changed my mind again. TOUGH SHIT C'MERE, I'LL JUST DO YOUR UPPER LIP.
And would you know that man let me drag him through a doorway and use the kitchen shears to trim his facial hair. If that's not love, I don't know what is, y'all. I didn't say anything on here because we didn't exactly celebrate except with cake for the children (my choice, I am a long-time birthday-hater), but today (for five more minutes) is my birthday and right now? I get the feeling thirty-two is gonna be a good year.
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