valentina

Thanks doll, I do so need to purchase it... I hope you're feeling better every day! Surgery and recovery and all that jazz is no damn fun.

I'm in a rut, but it's a lovely rut, and a rut that I am happy to wallow in. I'm still wearing Tunisian Patchouli with O slathered over the top. It is a nice dirt rut with a bucket of honey and nuggets of amber poured into it. It works for this time of year. My body chem is very seasonal and this is the Tunisian patchouli time of year; it gets too overwhelming when the weather cools off, and even now, I like I much better when it's layered and softened with the O. I have a tattoo of a triskele on my sacrum; I got it because I love Celtic spirals and it reminds me of the New Grange stone carvings. I've had it for several years now and I only recently discovered that in "The Story of O," the protagonist (or maybe I should say the pro-agonyist) wears a ring with a triskele design. As a result, in some quarters, the triskele is a symbol for BDSM. So I wear O, I have a triskele tattoo, someone give me my leathers and a whip! A friend of mine used to get a catalog from a place called "Dream Dresser," and he always passed it on to me. Oh my. It made me want to become a domme on the spot. He stopped getting the catalog and we looked up the company on the web, and sadly, I think they're defunct. All that said, I never do the domme act. I think I have more fun making people believe that I would make them get down on their knees and bark like a dog, than I ever would have if they actually did so. Oh yes! I have on an eggplant-colored bra. One of the VSC bandolier minimal-padding numbers. I really like the way that the straps look, they're wider-set and very flattering. And I love the color. My panties are black mesh bikinis. I do have undies to match the bra, but they tend to produce VPL (visible panty line) and I have on a pair of those long shorts/short trousers with dark hose. I didn't want to ruin the line. So I've been told that men love VPL as long as it's not incredibly evident. Just a shade of it that find rather sexy, just because they get to think about your panties. But is that true? What have you heard? Do report back...consider it a research mission. Back to my fragrant rut...

snark! I've been thinking of you. I am terribly VPL-adverse, and will wear a thong if I think there is even a hit of a pantyline. However, I perversely don't care if the side-ties on some of my bikinis and thongs are vaguely evident on my hips. I really don't like hurting people, physically or emotionally. Even if they want to be hurt, I try not to do it. Thus, I would be an abject failure as a domme and it's only my sense of tease that allows me to suggest that such a behavior would even be possible from little old me.

Shelldo, have you reviewed STFU yet? I know it's a ritual oil, but I'm still curious how it smells. I'm going to get some anyway, because it would come in handy in my world. Vipers only come out when they have something to be jealous of, but that still doesn't make them any less annoying.

I find it almost impossible to believe that I have not mentioned shoes in any of my blog entries. Shoes of the high-heeled, ankle-strapped, bordering on Bettie Page fetish heels, retro-style shoes, platform thongs for the summer, boots of all varieties. The shoe fetishists always are agog. I have a pair of stiletto heels, pumps with the newer rounded toe, the fabric has small multi-color polka dots. When I wore them last week, they were compared to 1) confetti on New Year's Eve, and 2) cupcakes with sprinkles on the top, and 3) Easter Eggs. Are those shoes a Roschach test of sorts? I once had someone tell me that the shrinks believe men become foot/shoe fetishists because they sat at their mother's feet adoringly as wee boys, and somehow the association with feet and the love of a woman merge in their brains. Well. Their mommas probably didn't wear shoes like mine. One of my girlfriends calls me the shoe whore, and made up a Dr. Seuss book title of sorts for me, called: "Who Shore The Shoe Whore Of Her Shoes?" However, for every yin there is a yang, and I also own two pairs of Dansko clogs, a really ugly but comfy pair of Keens, about 4 pairs of Birkenstocks (one pair is close to 20 yrs old) and one pair of Merrells. I have to keep my feel happy during their down time from the stilettos. And I'm wearing my Adidas athletic shoes as I write. I won't even get into the effect that good lingerie and great high heels have when worn in concert. Just look at Bettie Page for the ultimate example of the incendiary nature of such combinations!

Actually, I think we both about flipped out, since we'd both been thinking we were the pathetic one with the crush and the other one was being kind of flirty and funny just for the jollies of it. We both have the ability to act terribly insouicant and sophisticated -- obviously we share defense mechanisms! So when he came clean and was so damn honest about it, I nearly peed my pants. And then when I said I felt the same way, he nearly hyperventilated. So now we're so freaked out we have no idea what to do! But if your crush put you on his "friends" list, he's obviously wanting to document that connection. Veeerrrry interesting!

A big hug and plenty of calming thoughts will be sent to the darkkittysnark when I head off for my night meditation in a couple of minutes. And then another hug or two. The radiologists like to be double, triple, quadruple sure if there's a history in the family. And maybe like me, you have "dense" breasts. I asked a radiology tech once how they could tell my boobs had a low IQ, and once she finished laughing, she said that some women (especially those of us with the little perksters) have denser breast tissue than those with larger models. And since you're younger and getting a baseline, the breasts are naturally going to be denser and harder to image. So to have a really good baseline, they're going to try to improve some images. But I'm thinking of you and I feel so bad that you have to worry about such a thing, but I'm sure it's routine in nature.

Sweetie, never say never. I've had a crush on someone for 5 years (in varying degrees of throb-dom) and he recently let me know that he's felt exactly the same way for about 10 years. Huh? There were 5 years that I didn't get it? And sometimes just know the feeling was reciprocal is pretty damn awesome. But I'd guess that your crush finds you awesome.

I stumbled onto the computer to find a PM from the esteemed minilux, notifying me of the Monster Bait: Underpants LE arrival. When I finished rolling around on the floor with glee, I picked myself up and immediately ordered two bottles. I also ordered a bottle of Beltane, because Scotland and gardens and spring just gets my sap flowing. And laying on a bed wearing lovely panties with flower petals strewn all around you is a lovely thought, no? My ofrenda today is set to honor Beth, high priestess of panty lovers, and to the lovely mods, who invoked the priestess to develop her panty potion. For without question, only friendly monsters should enter our gorgeous panties! I this place.

Beth has so many crowns to wear, and we keep handing her more...

I work for a state legislature. They only meet part of the year and they're almost finished, but the final week or two can involve working some long hours, because they meet into the night. A lot of it is a hurry-up-and-wait process for my office, since if there's something on the agenda, we have to sit around and wait for it to come up for debate. There may be a lot of blog entries from yours truly next week... Anyway, this afternoon a coworker and I were looking at Monday's very long agenda. He commented on a bill title -- something to do with obscene materials. He said: "Hmmm...it's a smut bill." I automatically said: "I love teh Smut!" He looked at me and said: "Really?" Not that he's a prude, not one little bit, it was just the rapidity of my remark and my great comfort in saying it that took him aback. I told him about Smut of the BPAL variety. He said: "Is this the same group that made the Beaver Moon t-shirt and that Naughty t-shirt?" I said yeah, more or less. (No point boring him with BPAL and BPTP distinctions.) I still hope the lovely and talented Macha makes a Smut t-shirt design some day, 'cause we do love teh Smut.

Shelldo, that is high praise because you make me laugh a lot, and your signature line is what I'd call the name of the game. Plus I'd guess you're a bit of a lingerie finery diva yourself... Hope you're off ordering that panty monster today!!

La Ofrenda means "the offering," of course. I love it when Beth describes the ofrenda in the Excolo scents... ah, the offerings to the goddess or the god. The world "offering" to me conjures up passing a collection plate in a uptight church and it immediately takes on a repressed, dreary connotation. "Ofrenda" conjures up the smell, taste, texture and colors of all things juicy and real and alive that you'd offer in celebration to the diety. There's always talk on the forum and in the blogs about putting on some gorgeous BPAL before you go to bed, and falling asleep in the delicious haze of that aroma. Isn't that an ofrenda to your subconscious self? I rather like the notion. Does it produce deeper sleep, more meaningful dreams, a calmer mind upon awakening? What about anointing ourselves with BPAL during the day...couldn't we view it as an ofrenda to our waking life? And to our bodies? And I'm not talking about a nonstop, shallow, "I'm-so-fucking-hot" attitude, that vapid bullshit self-infatuation. I'm talking about appreciating your body and your soul for a few moments each the morning before you walk out into the mayhem of the world. And lingerie is, of course, an ofrenda. Absolutely. While it's commonly seen as an ofrenda to another mortal, is it really? Is is just as much, and perhaps first and foremost, an ofrenda to yourself? Someone else may simply be lucky enough to participate in the celebration. And if there isn't someone else to participate, don't despair -- for the quiet, ritualistic ways that we appreciate the goddess that resides within, is to walk on holy ground. So divas, anoint yourself, because you're gorgeous. And I'm wearing my cocoa loco bra again today because it's so great under clingy tops. My undies are lacy boyshorts with a keyhole peek-a-boo in the back. And I still haven't gotten over wearing Tunisian patchouli and O, blended together.

Ohmygosh, thank you minilux, because you are a diva and ofrendas are celebratory and celebrations are fun and FUN RULES!! As I recall, your ofrenda is sometimes a rather feral one, with a bit of civet wafting up from the altar of your body? Considering my recent fondness for mixing straight pathchouli with O, I think my ofrenda involves rolling around in the dirt with a bucket of honey. Woot!

Lingerie divas, this blog is here to enable you. I happily encourage growing the economy by purchasing BPAL and lingerie. The two are like hand and glove, for gorgeous lingerie is made even more beautiful when you are wearing a white-hot BPAL oil. I had a $10 credit to Victoria's Secret and wandered out there over my lunch hour yesterday like a crack-addled 'ho in search of her next fix. Naturally, I came away with a new bra, but just one thong undie. I had succumbed to the IPEX bra extravaganza out there last spring and summer and now have three pairs of those babies. I do think the demi version of the IPEX is the nicest, and that is, in fact, the model of my sassy tangerine bra. But yesterday I purchased their new Secret Embrace model in a lovely dark cocoa brown. The Secret Embrace underwires are barely detectable and there's no bulky snaps or even tags. It's intended for those clingy little spring and summer tops, BPTP baby doll t-shirts and the like. And it's got a bit o' subtle padding in the bottom of the cup, to give the girls a bit of an extra boost. And while I wear a 36 C or D cup at VSC, that just makes me laugh. My girls are middlers at best. I have broad shoulders and a fairly wide ribcage, so there's a bit of a grand canyon between the girls; cleavage requires feats of engineering that are too painful for me consider, so I rely on the perkiness factor where the girls are concerned. And I had my mammogram about 3 weeks ago. Divas, please do valentina a favor and do your breast self-exams, and if you're of the age where a mammo is indicated, get one. If affordability is an issue, many states have passed laws that help pay for mammograms if you don't have health insurance. Check it out. Our girls are wondrous things and we need to keep an eye on them. Also consider taking flax seed oil as a supplement; first of all, it's great for your skin and hair and second of all, there's some evidence that essential fatty acids can help diminish the risk of cancers, including breast cancer. If you won't do it because I say so, do it for Sheryl Crow. I mean, I don't really like her music, but to break up with Lance (not that I think he'd be an especially laid-back boyfriend) and then be diagnosed with breast cancer is pretty fucking rough patch, IMHO. OK, when did this become a public service announcement? Oh my hell, you've probably stopped reading!! Let's talk about the flesh colored mesh thong with that little "Pink" dog VSC mascot depicted in red rhinestones on the upper left-hand side. I think that Pink campaign is a bit pruient and about as subtle as a 2x4 upside the head, but I have dogs so what do I do when confronted with a fleshy meshy thong with a doggie on it? I buy it, because I am a lingerie-addled 'ho. And this 'ho keeps wear her O and Tunisian Patchouli combo. It smells really good together. I know I will tire of it, my body chem will do another seasonal/hormonal morph, or more likely, my order of the Monster Bait and Osun will arrive and I'll have a new infatuation, but for now, the O and Tunisian Patchouli cocktail is swoon-worthy.

LMAO on the "time-honored, Bob Dole approach." Anyone who makes me laugh gets my readership.

Maunder: 1. [v] speak (about unimportant matters) rapidly and incessantly 2. [v] talk indistinctly; usually in a low voice 3. [v] wander aimlessly I so do need to thump myself in the head and give myself an attitude adjustment. Except that's probably not the gentlest way to look at it... Let's see... I need to remind myself not to whack out in my predictable old ways. But I'm so good at whacking out, since it's my Own Private Madness and at worst I seem a bit distracted. Inside, I am a teeming malestrom of whackedness and then I get more pissed off at myself because I know I'm doing it to myself. I went out for a walk to try to clear my head and actually did something to make it worse. Oh, it's a long story. And for hell's sake, I have no basis to bitch. None whatsoever. My pissiness is based upon the fact that I want what I want when I want it, even when it makes no sense and my brain knows better. Part of my attitude problem is, I'm sure, due to lack of sleep. I went to bed about 11:30, woke up at about 1 a.m. feeling like shit and I didn't get back to sleep until about 3:30. Then a thunderstorm rolled in at 5:30 am and woke me up. And lack of sleep often produces a heightened princess "wah!" effect in my psyche. I need to chill out tonight and meditate for about an hour to get my turmoil under control. And I need to do it early, because if I try it too late at night, I will keep nodding off because I'm tired. That may happen anyway. I'm not going to get into what's upsetting me, but trust me, most of you would categorize it as an amusing, madcap, abudance of riches "problem" of the sort that would be whined about by Carrie Bradshaw in "Sex and the City." Yuppers. The reason that I watched "Sex" was to watch that bitch openly whine about such things and have girlfriends patiently listen and not yell at her at the top of their lungs "SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU SPOILED ASSHOLE BITCH! JESUS CHRIST! PEOPLE WOULD DIE FOR THESE 'PROBLEMS!'" And I also find Chris Noth (Mr. Big) to be hot. I'll stop maundering now. Anyone who read all the way to this point, you are a saint or you want to be like Carrie's long-suffering girlfriends in "Sex." Or for whatever reason, thank you.

What color, dahlings, is your underwear today? I'm wearing a tangerine-colored bra. Very sassy. And I have on a tangerine and yellow mesh bikini that ties on the sides. And underneath the underwear, I'm wearing a combination of Tunisian Patchouli (from DSH) with O over the top. Damn, that is a fine combination. I think O is great alone, but I love it as a mixer. Now this might be an interesting thing to track... I normally put my BPAL on prior to wearing underwear. Does the BPAL that I pick for that day affect the type of underwear that I pick? Ah, I have found a purpose for this blog... I'm going to track the influence of BPAL application upon my choice of lingerie. My serious, Kinsey Report-like analysis has begun...

Diva! I am working late tonight (I work for a state legislature and they're meeting late), but I'm really just in a hurry-up-and-wait mode. So I can check out the Huit web site! Wee! Thank you for the link! Your undies sound really cute. Those sparkly winter-theme panties are some of my favorites. And I dream of owning a BPAL stash that matches my underwear stash!!

Does anyone remember the bratpack movie "Pretty in Pink?" With Molly Ringwald, that guy who's now in the TV show with Charlie Sheen whose name I forget, and James Spader before he got rather bloated-looking. I know some of you get off on James Spader, and I think he's a good casting choice to play the son of William Shatner, because the both look like bloated ticks to me, in that alcoholic liver-damaged way. Oh yeah, and Andrew McCarthy was in "Pretty in Pink," but he appeared to be semi-comatose in that movie and was most unconvincing as Molly's trob-boy. Oh, and Harry Dean Stanton...what a completely surreal casting choice, Harry Dean as good ol pa. His presence alone gave that movie a seamy underside that remained unspoken. Does anyone remember Harry Dean in "Repo Man?" One of my all-time favorite movie lines... something to the effect of: "Just look at 'em...ordinary people...I fucking hate 'em..." And Harry Dean in "Paris, Texas?" Weird-ass movie. I need to watch it again. Has anyone ever read essays by Cintra Wilson? The woman is an insanely brilliant writer and is utterly savage. I adore her. Most of her commentary is on entertainment industry abominations, although recently she's been branching out into political commentary. I just happen to have her book "A Massive Swelling" sitting on my desk and I must quote from an essay where she mentions Harry Dean Stanton: "...I was taken to a small blues bar to see derelict actor Harry Dean Stanton sing in the New Year. When we entered the bar, Harry, already suffering "spins," was using the microphone stand as a means to remain standing. "Harry needs another cocktail!" someone from the stage would yell every few minutes, as Harry unintelligibly moaned like he was passing kidney stones to "Wooly Bully" in cryptic and fluctuating time signatures which the musicians tried to follow, with the maddening futility of someone trying to grasp a dollar bill twisting away in a strong breeze. At one point Harry lurched off the stage mid-song and began shuffling around the bar, fumbling cardboard hats onto the heads of fearful young women, his dirty thumbs slipping into their eyes. "Harry's going to hand out hats now, heh heh," chortled the bandleader, treating the alcohol-poisoned actor as if he were a charming Down syndrome child. Any man in that bar with a loving heart would have beaten Harry out cold with a pool cue and dragged him off to sleep in someone's car." Now how brilliant is that? Cintra is a goddess and without a doubt my heroine. Get her books, and she's a guest contributor to the online site salon.com. But the reason I mention Pretty in Pink is that I'm wearing pink lingerie today. A pink bra with pink lace over the top and another side-tie mesh bikini, only this one is pink with large burgundy polka dots. And I'm wearing my combo of O and Tunisian Patchouli. My male friend who is one of my workplace noses declared it to be dangerous. I do believe that it is.

Yes, thank you -- Jon Cryer... I was totally blocking his name. He was great as the Duck-Man. Very endearing. Annie Potts was in that movie, also... she played the record store manager who was a surrogate big sister/mom figure for Molly. I kind of have a soft spot for Bratpack movies, although "Sixteen Candles" is my favorite because it is so utterly idiotic and the dreamboy in that movie is so freaking purdy.

I wandered over to your blog to tell you that you are enabler for telling me about Club Fife in my blog. Those little thongy things look very comfy and it's very comforting to have some basics that feel nice and look good when you just don't have the energy to wear the full-scale diva pantie-poos. Your story of your boy's stir-fry reminds me of this place called Hu Hot... do they have one in your town? It's a stir-fry do-it-yourself buffet where you pick out and dish up the noodles, the meat, the veggies, the sauces, and you give it to the cooks and stand in line as you watch them cook it. True abominations can be produced at that place. Even if you do a good job, you might get the aftertaste of some culinary orgy that was cooked on the grill right before you. But it's all-you-can-eat, so the one in my town is constantly clogged by "eaters" (as opposed to "diners") who equate quantity with quality. But when I left that place, I was rip-roaring bitchy, so maybe there's something about a really confusing stir-fry that just heightens the irritability factor. But I hope retiring with some yummy BPAL olfactory influences made you awake feeling much, much happier...

80 or 90 pairs? Color me green with envy! Do you do some shopping online for the underlovelies? If so, where?

From etymology online, the origin of the word "goon:" goon 1921, "stupid person," from gony "simpleton" (c.1580), of unknown origin, but applied by sailors to the albatross and similar big, clumsy birds (1839); sense of "hired thug" first recorded 1938 (in ref. to union "beef squads" used to cow strikers in the Pacific northwest), probably from Alice the Goon, slow-witted and muscular (but gentle-natured) character in "Thimble Theater" comic strip (starring Popeye) by E.C. Segar (1894-1938). She also was the inspiration for British comedian Spike Milligan's "The Goon Show." What are now "juvenile delinquents" were in the 1940s sometimes called goonlets. For those who are not familiar with vintage cartoons, Alice the Goon was so primoridally bizarre that she still freaks me out a little. I was always fascinated and deeply weirded out by her presence in Popeye cartoons. I have an Alice the Goon stuffed toy that I found on eBay a few years ago. I also love The Jeep, that weird little magical dog-monkey thing in Popeye. Was Segar on acid when he drew those cartoons? Here is lovely Alice herself -- she was a bit of an androgynous old thing: I think a BPAL scent based on Alice the Goon would be wonderful, although I imagine it to smell a bit like Enraged Orangantan Musk.

I do adore my BPAL, but I love lipstick a lot. If you smell great and you have really red lips and smoky eyeliner and a nice push-up bra and some lacy undergoodies, life is delish'. I'm sitting here at my desk and I have an empty tin of Uncle Joe's Mint Balls. I found this product at TJ Maxx and it made me laugh so hard that I had to purchase it. They're what... from England? They're really just a hard candy with mint flavoring. We had a lot of fun with the contents here at work while they lasted. As in: "What'cha eating?" "Oh, I'm sucking on one of Uncle Joe's mint balls." Uncle Joe doesn't look like Uncle Joe in "Petticoat Junction," of course, he looks like a proper London gentleman in a a white top hat, ascot and suitcoat. Would someone with minty balls look any other way? I think not. Today I'm wearing Kali with O over the top.