`Yes, please. ICEE! 

PicsArt_09-16-02.57.00I imagine that cummin to my home for the very first time must be a nerve-wrecking experience for fellas. Of course, I send my dates my address, directons, and a picture of my house to alleviate any concerns regarding the trip, itself. Still, it is completely understandable how meeting me, or any female, for a first date could, certainly, stress a guy out.

Gentlemen on first dates, almost always, arrive about ten to fifteen minutes early. Seriously. That’s, almost, every single time. In fact, it happens so frequently that, somewhere, in my first few years escorting, I came up with a method for working out time issues, without causing either of us too much grief. Of course, the entire process has, also, laid bare my own faults when it cums to being on time for a date.

You see, no matter how hard I try or how early I begin getting ready, I, still, ALWAYS cum up just a few minutes shy of being considered “available” on time. SO UNPROFESSIONAL!

I, suppose, it all began way back, when I used to live in hotels. Back then, I wouldn’t even commence getting ready until my date had informed me that he was drawing within ten to fifteen minutes of me. In fact, contacting me in that particular time frame WAS the system I used to help me be ready on time for several years. (Not that it ever worked all that well.)

I’d spend the first ten minutes rushing around, lighting the candles, making my bed, and straightening up the floor. Then, I’d jump under the water and administer a quick shave from the side of the tub. The same towel I used to dry my azz, would end up wrapped around it as I approached the door. All, before I could, finally, usher in my new guest. I was in need of a simpler solution; a better system.

There is nothing sweeter, on God’s green earth, than a man on his way to get some pussy. IT’S THE TRUTH. They will move Heaven, Hell, and St. Peter, himself, to complete their mission of planting that seed.

(Ooh. She’s sooo nasty! Yeah, right. We all know how this really works.)

During that short window of time, no matter how outrageous the request, I was guaranteed that my date would, at the very, very least, think about it. I had only to inquire, very nonchalantly, “Are you planning on stopping by the store? If not, it’s alright.”

My dates, just like the true gentlemen their mama’s raised them to be, most often, would respond, “Sure. Would you like something?”

Would I?? “Yes, please.” Now, back then, I used to drink Coke like it was h2o. So, of course, my request was always for a fountain drink Coke. Despite the fact that I do prefer all iced fountain drinks, flavor was not, actually, my true concern.

From start to finish, the process of making a drink from the soda fountain was sure to afford me, at least, an additional three to ten minutes to better prepare for my new friend’s arrival. He would have to stop by a gas station, gather the cup, ice, and Coke, attach a lid, find a clean straw (they are rarely stocked and readily available in corner convenience stores), make the purchase, and, finally, leave. Y’all feelin me yet??

Times, sure, have changed, but my “system” of doing things really hasn’t, too much. These days, if I find myself in need of a few extra moments, I cue them up until I get the question, and I answer…

“Yes, please. Icee!” Cherry or Coke are preferred flavors for me. That is, unless they have cotton candy. That is, hands down, my ultimate favorite flavor!  But, it’s, also, insanely difficult to find. So, cherry or Coke work, just, as well.

Of course, I don’t request one every time, and it, certainly, doesn’t work every time I request one, either. Truthfully, I’ve found that it doesn’t, really, matter if I use it anymore. I still tend to run, just, a few minutes late, OR, even worse, I’m, actually, on time.  But, that only lasts a few moments, until, I bust my azz falling in the tub, or some other painful injury is incurred that fucks me completely up in those last few moments before he arrives at my door, making me, once again, two to fifteen minutes late.

It’s, truly, very annoying. It is an ever present reminder that I just can’t seem to get my shit together. No matter how old I become.

But, I’m tryin.

To all of the fellas who have taken the time to make me a delicious frozen treat and were brave enough to deliver it, as well… THANK YOU.

I, honestly, am just now realizing that I, even, still, do this. I’m, definitely, not a perfect person. Not even close. I grow in character, spirit and esteem through every trial and tribulation and negative experience that I endure. I think we all, kinda, do.

Truthfully, I was, somewhat, proud of myself, for a minute there. I hadn’t even noticed I was using any special techniques to assist me in “appearing” well put-together. Hey. I’m, more than, delighted that this ole dog can still learn a few new tricks, considering how much time I, freely, invest in what I enjoy best… Burying friendly bones…


Man, Hoe! 

Friend’s. Oh, my dear, dear, friends. I’m so very psyched to see that y’all haven’t given up on me… Yet. I’m sure you’re probably wondering what fresh load of shit I’ll be shoveling up for your entertainment this morning.

Y’all should be so ashamed of yourselves. Soon, you’ll have everyone thinkin, I just wake up all ornary and hateful-like, everyday.  My favorite pastime, possibly,  just pointing judgemental fingers at anyone that happens to cross my path.  

Really?  All that before I’ve even had the chance to finish my very first cup of coffee for the day?? 

Oh, cum on… Anyone who truly knows me, would know automatically… I don’t do shit BEFORE my very first cup of joe for the day. As a matter of fact, it’s only after the first, sometimes, even, well into that second steaming cup, before reality actually kicks in for me at all.

But, hey. No worries, people. Immediately after waking this morning, I , just, went on and consumed all the caffeine necessary for me to get these curves a-movin, in acticipation of finding a little personal time to spend with all of you. What a thoughtful lil’ whore. Right? (Awww. Am I blushing?)

Perhaps some of you may have noticed that I don’t write anywhere near as much as i used to. In fact, I haven’t shared a post on here in, what seems like, forever. Jeez! Has it really been that long?? Wow.  Yes. YES, It has.

Have y’all pondered my absence and wondered whose company I might have been in? Or, rather, it’s much more likely that you were trying to guess whose company just might have BEEN IN ME…

No. No. Of course, not. I know that y’all aren’t like that. For fear that it might make me uncomfortable, you would never even think to inquire as to any of the personal details about my frequent sex-capades and bj’s, aplenty.

But, then, you never had to. Did you?? Telling people what I think and how I feel has certainly NEVER been a problem for me. Or, hadn’t anyone noticed? To be quite honest, it’s all perfectly therapeutic, and, in my personal opinion, just part of a well-balanced lifestyle.

As is sex. And, I, certainly, don’t have an issue there, either. Despite the fact that I have slowly increased in popularity, I, still, only book the same amount of dates. You see, there isn’t enough money in the world for me to let y’all wear my dearest, Greedy, out to the point that I am unable to use it when I’m alone and feeling frisky, myself.

Actually, I’m kinda amazed that y’all can’t hear the incessant buzzing, now, cummin from so close by. Recently, I purchased a little pink wand to add to my toy chest. It’s fleshy texture is, absolutely, delightful, but, more importantly… 

This little booger, here, is so very powerful. Lemme tell ya. My gaze drifts, slowly, down to the small pink vibrator, enveloped securely between my delicate nether lips.  I’ve gotta admit, pink is DEFINITELY my color. 

Wait. Now, that I think about it, the last time, I was able to sit down for a few moments to make an attempt at blogging something new for y’all, the new Mr. Pink was in the exact same spot, humming like the mother fucker, he truly is. Funny thing is,  I can’t remember what it was I was, actually, writing about. 

Damn, that Greedy! What a cunt! What a selfish cunt. Hell! What a cunningly, selfish cunt. Ahh! (I, just, kill me!)

So, I had this date. He arrives, all fresh-faced, confident, and YOUNG AS FUCK! 24, to be exact. But, oh, my God! This man may have been young, but he was, also, INSANELY DELICIOUS, to be sure. 

Most providers refuse to even see anyone under the age of 30. Laney lixx AKA Ms. Masterhead69 DOES NOT DISCRIMINATE. NO WAY.  NO DAY.  NO HOW.  ALL MEN need love. Both, the mature and the inexperienced.

I have always prided myself on being able to hold a conversation with, just about, anyone. Anywhere. Anytime. However, that might not be true for very much longer. The truth is, a young man or woman in their twenties, today, has very little, if anything, in common with those of us who’s twenties were a decade, or more, before now. And, relating to someone is made just that much more difficult due to the fact that twenty-something’s rarely, if ever, look up from their phones to truly engage any conversation, anyway. 

You know, the youth of today can, truly, be some disrespectful, little shits. On top of that, most of them are, also, lazy as fuck. oh, trust me. I know, firsthand. 

My eldest son could have been the founding member of that special group of youngins, right there. You know, the ones that feel entitled to all, but feel responsible for none. Hey. I’m not happy about it. I just haven’t found the secret to fixing this glitch of personality for him. Damnit! Guess I’ll have to just love him the way he is. (Argh!)

Despite most outward appearances, I don’t believe I’ve, ever, met anyone that, actually, grew up with a perfect home life. In all honesty, despite the five purvy family members that got off on diddling my very immature goodies, my childhood was, actually, quite idyllic. 
I had lots of toys, tons of friends, and every single year, by the Grace of God, my name always seemed to show up on Santa’s Nice List. (I’m, pretty sure, I qualified for the Naughty List, at least, once. Possibly, way, way more.)

No. My childhood was, certainly, not perfect, but I was quite unaware that there was anything wrong with it at all. Just like every other child, I was craving attention and affection and love. 

Quite frequently, during the early morning hours, I’d awaken to find any number of my uncle’s digits, almost knuckle-deep, inside my body. God knows, how many evenings, I sat, high, atop my grandfather’s knee, as he gave explicit lessons on precisely how he preferred me to touch him.

I sure loved my Paw Paw, and I, ABSOLUTELY, valued his opinion over, most, everyone else that existed in my very small world, back then. From then, on, he never had to show me that technique, again. 

Instead, from then, on, I took advantage of every opportunity I had alone with him to practice. So, as to outdo my previous performances. And, also, FROM THEN, ON, I received nothing, but the highest of praises. Oh, and an, ABSOLUTELY,  insatiable craving for cock, like none other.

I wasn’t even old enough, back then, to attend elementary school for the full day, like all the other students. There I was, just a kid. Respectful. Appreciative. Enthusiastic. Attentive. And, Determined. But, most importantly, I was never anything, if not, totally respectful. 

Shit. My mom would have beat me senseless, without question, at, just, the thought of me, even, thinking about disrespecting ANYONE older than myself. No matter how old, dude. 

Look, I’ve actually found myself, suddenly, with the flushed and heated cheeks of someone who’s just been smacked. And, damn hard, I’d have to guess. However, I’ve never actually witnessed my mother doing the ACTUAL SMACKING, herself. But, I can, ABSOLUTELY,  attest to the many, many times she has threatened to do so. (Too many, really.)

Worse, yet. There I am,  completely baffled and utterly confused, as I search, in vain, for the mysterious, ghost-like, hand of my mother that, surely, just slapped me square in my face. How could I have missed that??

So, there I am, with this, very attractive and very young, 24 year old, young man. So cute.  I mean,  he’s so damn cute… And, his smile, so, very genuine. He stood, at least, a half a head taller than myself, amusing me to no end.

I returned his friendly smile for several moments, until i realized he was about to say something. I almost cried out, “Nooo. Please, don’t fuck this up.” 

I just knew, it didn’t matter which words he used, they would completely shatter my present illusion of a 24 year old man, as attractive as he was intelligent. A tall, dark, very masculine, gentleman with a passion that rivaled my own. 

Oh, Whatever. It’s MY FANTASY, folks. Damn! That, sure, sounds like one helluva, sexxy azz fella, to me darlin. Until, he speaks… 

Only, he didn’t fuck it up. To be honest, I’m not really sure that, I, actually, heard what he did say. I mean, he seemed so well-versed and respectful. One might go as far as to use the word chivalrous when describing him to others.   

He spoke, rather, wisely, really, for such a young man.  At least, it sounded wise.  Shit!  I don’t know. His lips started moving and,  I suppose, I just drifted right on off. 

What I do know, for sure, is this man was SEXXY AS FUCK. No doubt about that! 

He was a confident man, with a very firm set of values already in place, far higher than anyone I’ve ever known personally, myself. The true gentleman in him, was nothing but thoughtful and respectful, never once uttering, even, one cuss word, accidentally, in my home. 

It was evident, this boy was raised properly. I found myself so intensely attracted to this… This man/child… You know, this young man. 

Only, he didn’t act like a YOUNG man, at all.  He, certainly, didn’t sound like a young man. And, truthfully, except for his youthful face, he had the lean, but well muscled body of… Well, a man. A working man.

We got along, almost immediately. There was, just, so much that we had in common. Most importantly, on that particular night, we were, both, super horny. I took one look at his cock, then met his gaze, again, but not fast enough. 

Before I knew what was up or down, we were all over each other. He was a very passionate kisser, no matter what the subject of his affection so happened at that time to be. I found his tongue talents served up my Greedy, like she was a rare delicacy, best when devoured, oh, so, slowly. This man/boy was really gifted, my friends!! 

We fucked. We talked. We talked and fucked, some more. When I caught him eyeballing my azz, and made a little joke, he admitted to not having any experience with back doors.  

Well, y’all know me. I flaunted my tight little rosebud of an azzhole, every chance I got, until he was desperate to spread it wide, all for himself. In all truthfulness, he wore my ass out. Literally.

Now, fast forward about 6 or 7 hours later. We’re both very sore, slightly raw, certainly, worn out,  and completely covered in our own juices, from head to toe. 

Still, it was nearly impossible to stop copulating. When we finally seperated, the pleasure we’d experienced with each other, stood, almost, palpably in the air between our naked and shivering bodies. 

He leaves, as most working men do, just before the sun rises. A few hours later, and he’s back, again. My ankles are pushed above my shoulders, or I’m bent forward on my knees with my hands pulled behind my back.

There, just, didn’t seem to be, even, one position that didn’t work for us. I, quite simply, could not stop orgasming. Of course,  I certainly didn’t wanna stop, anyway. So, we didn’t.  

This has certainly happened before. But as I look around me now, I can’t remember who those fuckers even were, anymore. By comparison, I don’t think I’ll ever forget this young man. 

He loved it. He liked it. He licked it. He adored, respected, and admired it.  Then, finally, he signed his name to it, and he owned it. I couldn’t have written it any better, myself. And, I wouldn’t have had it ANY OTHER WAY. 

Me, Again

img-thingI think I liked it better when my blog was completely anonymous. I could write about, just, anything that I wanted. I could write every single feeling I felt. I could share with the world, every minute detail of every experience I’ve ever had. All, without fear of judgement or retribution.

Things have certainly changed since then. I definitely take what I write into consideration more, keeping in mind how my words may affect others. It is a truly terrible thing when a writer must edit for reasons other than grammar or context.

I cannot, truly, convey how greatly I appreciate everyone that has continued to read my posts and follow my life’s journey through the very words in which I use to describe it. In fact, if you didn’t continue to remind me that you are all still listening, I know that “Playing With My Friends” would have ended long, long ago.

That being said, please understand… This is how I vent off my frustrations, trials, and fears. It is, also, how I share my greatest accomplishments and joy. Thanks to your support, I have continued access to the best counselors available, anywhere. True experts on me, in general. Thank you, my friends. I am in need of your services again.

First off, I’m not trying to make myself out to be some kind of saint. By no means, am I ever trying to convince anyone that I’m any more or any less human than anyone else. I am, certainly, nowhere near sainthood. Shit. I don’t even go to church regularly, like I used to.

I know that, sometimes, I may cum off that way. That’s, most likely, because you only hear my side of the story. As you know, there is always more than just one. However, I haven’t lied to you. Just remember to take all I say with, just, a grain of salt. Perhaps, even a dash. Season it as best you can, for this particular dish is flavorless, but served in the sincerest of hopes that you can help me better understand why.

I felt it upon my heart to do something about the current situation and availability of genuine female escorts, here, in my area of Florida. Actually, Alabama seems to be suffering from the same scarcity of legitimate ladies who actually enjoy sex. I don’t know why I ever thought I could help.

The truth is, there just aren’t that many good escorts in the South. It’s sad. Actually, it’s downright pitiful. Southerners are supposed to be completely golden when it comes to hospitality and true Southern comfort. And, certainly, big tittied, beautiful women aplenty. But, lately, (actually, maybe, always) it just seems to be the slimmest of pickins.

I don’t know why any escort would feel the need to take it upon herself to try to provide more competition, but I did. I mean, surely, I’m not the only one that’s noticed this situation. Too many men. Too few workin girls. You agree?

You see, I can tell by how busy I am, how many messages I receive, how many phone calls I return, how many emails fill my inbox, how many private messages pile up on my website, that the demand is much, much higher than the, true, supply here.

There’s just far more work than there are, actual, working females to complete it. That is why I find it so difficult to believe that any escort could ever be jealous of another around here. Quite simply… Who has the time??

So, I’m crazy. Right? I must be crazy to think that I, myself, could somehow be responsible for changing this. Any of this. The amount of girls that we have. The quality of the ones that are available. Any of it. But, I kinda feel like I could. Maybe…

My first attempt… Well, it was downright sad. I mean, I knew the girl well enough. I just hadn’t checked in on her in quite awhile. She definitely wasn’t prepared for this lifestyle. At all. She never paid attention to anything I said, so, she never, really, made any money. Honestly, I wish that I had done just a little more investigating before I began investing my personal time with her. But, that’s all over now.

I learned greatly from my first mistake. This time, I chose much more wisely. First, I put out feelers for the exact sort of person I was looking for. It took months before I even got my very first response back. Out of the five girls that were suggested to me, and interviewed by me, only one of them came even close to my type of personality and enthusiasm when it came to having fun. Most importantly, she was honest and sincere. So, very much, like me.

There’s no doubt that some of you think that this must be some kind of money making scheme for me. How? I’m no manager, and I, certainly, don’t believe in pimps. Truthfully, there’s no intention on my part, whatsoever, of making even a dime off of anyone that I’ve helped transition into this business.

That being said, I’ve spent quite a bit. True. Not so much on the first girl. It was evident, almost immediately, that she wasn’t going to work out. But, this new one, my sister… Well, lemme just say, I’ve already spent well over $500 to purchase her clothing and the like, so that she would be able to take pictures, and be prepared to dress for dates. And, never once, thought twice about it.

More importantly, I gave her my time. Once I realized that she was THE ONE, I spent, just about, every WAKING moment that she was available to cum over, teaching her about how to navigate escort websites, how to post ads, pointers on pictures, and went through her knowledge of the business, so that I was able to fill in any necessary information needed for this particular type of job.

Finally, I took a step back and caught my breath. She had IT. This lady was a total winner. She definitely had a bright future ahead of her. She had the look. She had the attitude. She was just a decent, honest person. I mean, she IS a decent, honest person. I mean…

I was proud, and I was so happy. I knew that, so, many fellas were going to be overjoyed at the presentation of someone so new and fresh and hot. She would be able to help fulfill the needs of so many deserving men in our area, and, others, traveling through. I couldn’t wait for her to begin to see her own dreams fulfilled, as well.

I know, I always sound so sure of myself. Like, I’m confident, and I know what I’m talking about. Or, that I know just the right way of doing things or going about getting things done. It’s all bullshit. I fuck up constantly. I do learn from my mistakes, sometimes. but, then, I just make brand new mistakes. It’s sad, really.

All of the thinking, the dreaming, the imagining, the foretelling of how this might have, surely, turned out… I never could have imagined I’d be sitting here telling the story this way right now. I mean, I certainly wouldn’t have invested so much into this project, had I not thought that it would benefit every single person involved.

But, I made a mistake. You see, I like to think that I’ve surrounded myself with friends. That’s just not true. Friends don’t fuck you over. Friends don’t act sneaky or try to do things behind your back. Friends know you so well that they would never expect you to have ill intentions towards anyone else. At least, when it came to my friends, I honestly thought I knew this all to be true.

I wish I could tell you what happened, but I don’t even fuckin know. I introduced my girl, my sister, my new friend, to two guys that I am extremely close to. Two of my closest friends. Also, two friends who lived very near to me and were, both, very accomplished in the field of hobbying.

You see, I needed something that I couldn’t get myself. I needed information on her bedroom compatibility. She was aware of this. We discussed it. The review process is very public, very open, very invasive. But, it is also very, very necessary. And, it can also be very, very good for the right kind of escort.

It was very, very good for my own career.

My friends were supposed to give me the details of their play dates, so that my new sister and I could go over these and come up with ways to improve areas that she might not have been batting 100%  in. Every girl could use a little improvement SOMEWHERE. This is a fact. No girl is perfect. That goes for me, as well.

I had never spoken to anyone she had, actually, ever been with, so I wasn’t really sure of what to expect when she was alone with someone. I needed this information to make her the best that she could possibly be. To hone any areas that required a little extra oomph before she actually went public. She understood this and was in complete agreement that it was, indeed, necessary.

My first friend was AMAZING. I could tell he was totally smitten with her, so I didn’t expect his review to be what I was looking for, exactly. I was wrong. He did a wonderful job, giving away several personal details that, not only, impressed me, but put me right there in the room while the magic happened. (Very difficult to do with just words.)

I’m so grateful to him. Not only did he give us this information freely, willingly, and quickly, but he also gave me the exact same donation he gave her, despite the fact that my only contribution was the setup. I mean, I didn’t do anything else, so I didn’t really deserve it. It was the kindest thing that anyone’s ever done in such a situation. In fact, I fell into tears as soon as he left, thinking, what an amazing friend. He knew exactly what I needed. I didn’t even have to ask.

My other friend, however, was a major disappointment. I don’t know what happened, exactly. He arrived, and I threw a big hug on him and commented on how big a teddy bear he was, and what a nice guy, and he was my best friend and all. It’s just how I feel when I see him. He’s such a nice guy, I thought. I thought…

I guess I could, kind of, tell that he was a little uncomfortable with the way that I greeted him. So, I pulled away and told her that she was going to have a great time. He would definitely take care of her. Then, I sent them on their way.

They emerged about 20 minutes later. I won’t lie. I was stunned. I didn’t know him ever to be under a two-hour kind of guy. But, whatever. Maybe she had just really put it on him.

I didn’t realize that he hadn’t given me a hug when he left, until later. Actually, it wasn’t even later. It was the following day. I guess I should have noticed immediately, being that he had shown discomfort, or, at least, I thought he had, only a few minutes after arriving. But, I had so much going on, and I was so very excited that she was, finally, getting started on such a great footing. I guess, I just overlooked it.

Due to high demand, I had been planning a trip to a nearby beach town, about an hour and a half away from Pensacola. I mean, I guess it’s about that far. Unfortunately, I didn’t really look up the hotel rates in advance and, instead, waited until the day of, and found myself in a terrible quandary. Worse than a quandary. I couldn’t even go.

I knew I’d been getting low on money, because I had dedicated so much of my time to helping her. I did not, however, realize that I was OUT of money (like, completely out of money, except for the money that was given to me the night before by my AMAZING friend). I just didn’t have enough to pay for the gas and the hotel in the town I’d planned on visiting.

I was heartbroken.

Truthfully, I felt like I had let everybody down. I had received SO MANY responses about cummin, that I could just envision a sea of angry faces, or an ocean of disappointed looks, or just a tidal wave of shaking heads. I don’t know. I just imagined everybody being so upset with me. I couldn’t imagine how I was going to face them. Unfortunately, it was unavoidable.

I couldn’t even think of what to say yet. I just felt so awful that I was a complete nervous wreck. Honestly, I was, just, shy of hysterical. The tears kept flowing, and I was so confused. I couldn’t quite figure out what I was going to do. How was I going to explain to everyone that I had fucked up so badly? I mean, I had people scheduled to meet with me THAT VERY DAY, and there was, ABSOLUTELY, NO WAY that I was able to do that now.

I, kind of, realized, almost immediately, that the main issue was my anxiety over being in a new town without transportation or friends or any means of help at all, should something happen. It freaked me out. It’s possible that the anxiety had just been growing the entire time I’d been planning the trip. Who knows??

What I do know, is that it all culminated that morning in, just, the worst possible breakdown you can possibly imagine. I’m in my chair, just sobbing pitifully. Unsure of what to do or how to think or how to even stop crying so I could figure anything out.

A few friends contacted me during this time. Probably, the worst time of my life for someone I care about to contact me. I felt so shitty and awful that I probably insulted every person that reached out to me that day, without meaning to. I just couldn’t understand how anybody could even like me after I had made such a huge mistake. I’m sure I lost more than a few friends that day over my own insecurities and childishness. (I still am unable to even talk about that, really, right now.)

I had contacted that second friend from the night before (my best friend) about giving me the details of his tryst with my “sister”. He didn’t give me a review. He didn’t offer any details. He, actually, kinda acted, a little, like I was invading their privacy. I was confused, because this had all been discussed, in her very presence, and his, the day before.

That, and his odd behavior when I hugged him in front of her, were not even a factor this particular morning, due to my complete obsessed thinking in regards to my unfulfilled trip. But, like a true friend, he offered help. A little odd, for him, really. Actually, VERY ODD. He offered me gas money. Even suggested, several times, to cum up with some kind of a plan, so that he’d be able to assist me in accomplishing it. ANYTHING, to help me get to where I needed to go.

I was too upset to explain to him that it was too late. There was just no way I could have made the trip in the state that I was in. Unfortunately, texting was impossible for me, at that moment. He messaged me several times, and I tried to explain, but I know that it didn’t come out properly. He seemed very frustrated and put off by it all.

It wasn’t until later, she approached me to find out if it was still alright if he met her at my house that evening around 8 pm. Of course, it was okay. I felt guilty, now, because I had offered my home to her for work while I was away. I didn’t mind if they had another date there. Actually, I was kind of surprised he hadn’t just mentioned it when he was texting me repeatedly about helping me get to Fort Walton Beach.

Then, it occurred to me. Why hadn’t he just been honest? I mean, it’s true. I should have noticed that he normally didn’t offer that much support (or ANYTHING, REALLY) about any situation that I’ve ever experienced in the past. But, I didn’t. Now, I understood why he wanted so badly to assist me in leaving my own home.

I couldn’t believe it. He was supposed to be my best friend. Why would he feel uncomfortable about telling me that he wanted to meet with her again while I was gone?? I don’t understand why he wouldn’t have just mentioned it during the several hours that he was pretending to provide me support. It, seriously, wouldn’t have been a big deal to me. Why was it such a big deal to him??

You better believe, I told him where to get off. It was obvious that he just wanted me away so that he could meet with her, again, privately. But, he was completely aware that she would be using my home while I was gone. Where was the secrecy? Why was there a need for it at all? She didn’t feel like there was anything to hide when she asked me if it was still alright for them to still meet there. What the fuck was going on????

Of course, I confronted him about it. No one has to lie to me. There are lots of things that upset me. This was not one of them. But, even the things that upset me are quite easily forgotten, if they’re brought to my attention honestly. But this one wasn’t, and I made it clear to him that I didn’t know what was going on, but that I didn’t appreciate it. I thought I had given him this wonderful opportunity, because he was such a close confidant of mine. I could see he was trying to be sneaky, but for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why.

Suddenly, I see her putting her things together. I’ve worked with her for so long now, I could tell very quickly what was going on. She had a hard time looking me in the eyes. That was very odd. She’s so much like me, and we like to look in each other’s eyes. Is just what honest people do when they talk to each other. But, she seemed to be having such a difficult time doing that, now. I, truly, couldn’t understand.

I assured her that it was all alright. She could totally meet anyone I knew, that she wanted at my house. In fact, I would even leave, if that made everyone more comfortable. I had made her aware that there may be times that she would need to use a hotel so that I could work, also, and she reminded me of this. I knew what was going on. I just didn’t quite understand why. Unfortunately, I was so upset about the whole trip thing that it all kind of flew over my head.

She was gone. I didn’t know how she was going to afford the room with only the one date. You see, she hadn’t taken the information on her email or her eccie account with her. It would have been impossible for her to have made any dates following that one with any of my friends from eccie.

Besides, the room alone was going to cost, at least, half of what she was going to make on the solo date. My suggestion was to just make him pay for it, since he needed her to leave my home, anyway, to be more comfortable. It was evident, because we think so much alike (and, so, very clear by her saddened expression), she would pay for the room herself, without even asking him.

I haven’t seen her since. I’ve spoken to her. Something’s different. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know if he said something that, maybe, made her think that I had ill intentions. I don’t know if he said something, just plain, bad about my character. I don’t know if she’s just embarrassed, because she knows she made a bad decision. I don’t know. I, just, don’t know anything.

I do know, that I’ve lost my friend. I do know, that I might have lost more than one friend. I do know, that I invested a whole lot of time in someone that, I’m not sure, I’ll ever see again. I do know, that she left several hundred dollars worth of clothing here that I purchased for her to work in. I do know, that she deserved this opportunity more than anyone I’ve ever met. I do know, that I feel like a fool for ever sticking my neck out at all. I do know, sharing this with ya’ll has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

So, how do I end this?? Well, to be honest with you, it looks like it’s ended itself. I’m sure she’ll return, and I’ll give her all the support that I did before, and I will continue to help her succeed as best I can. But, some of the fight in me is gone. It’s not her fault. It’s not her fault, at all. Maybe, it’s mine.

Look, I only wanted to help. I hoped that so many fellas would be delighted to have some new company to enjoy. I hoped that I could hook up a few of my friends, too, and give them first dibs on some fresh candy. I had hoped that when I decided to go get my surgery done, I would have somebody I could trust to sit at my home with my dog and continue to keep my fellas happy, so that they would still be here, waiting for me, when I returned.

I think I wanted too much. Maybe, I just expected too much. Maybe, I should just keep my nose out of everyone else’s business. Maybe, I already realize all of the above are true. Maybe, I’m not very good at helping people at all.

So, there’s no witty ending. No lesson tucked in that you didn’t realize you’d even learned. There’s no joke or underlying meaning. There’s just me. Alone. Nothing new here.

How are you??

Just another NON-ISSUE

Well, I’m disappointed, but no surprise there. It definitely looks like I just do not possess the ability to do ANYTHING AT ALL acceptable in the eyes of my peers (those fine gentlemen at ECCIE). It doesn’t matter how hard I try. It’s just never enough.

I know I’m not perfect. I’m am so very, very not perfect in EVERY POSSIBLE WAY. Then, why must I constantly insist upon fucking up my own shit???

This morning has certainly been much worse than most. Remember, I told ya about my army of sluts? Well, after interviewing several candidates, each lady with her own issues, I was blessed enough to find a kindred spirit… in the body of a goddess.

Of course, I wanted her for ya’ll, IMMEDIATELY. I could just envision the many, manly faces all pinched into ehilerated expressions of joy and excitement, so similiar to that of children at Christmastime. I couldn’t even imagine a better way of showing my appreciation for each and every last one of you.

If only it were that simple. If only ya’ll had the ability to know my true intentions. In no way, shape, or form, have I received anything out of this. In fact, quite the contrary. I have invested money into finding, training, and marketing (not to mention clothing and other female needs), just so that she might make a big splash in this arena we like to call a review site.

What a fuckin joke. I certainly don’t blame the chuckles I’m sure are ringing out over this one. I’m such a dumbass to think ya’ll would care how much time and effort this selfless act of compassion and concern went into such a project. I even went so far as to lay my own business and needs aside on this, and, now… Look what I’ve done.

I try. I swear that I do. I try to help. I wanna help. I love to make people happy, but, I just don’t seem to know how to do that anymore. It’s likely, I never truly did.

What’s the point??

Good morning, friends. It looks like this may be the very first morning, in what seems like forever, that I’m able to post before lunch. Oh, no. I didn’t mean YOUR lunch. More like, MY LUNCH. You know… like, around 2ish. Oh, cum on. I’m just teasin ya. (Possibly, 3pm. Latest.)

About twenty minutes ago, I had an entire post all written up and awaiting editing. But, by an overwhelming majority vote, I tossed the entire thing out. And… Well. Here I am! (Hope you don’t mind. You weren’t here, so I voted for ya.)

Trust me. Everyone is much better off for not having read any of it. It was full of profanity (so unusual for me), passion, and, if I had to guess, a wee bit of puke. Heads were sure to roll.

But… I squashed the entire thing. For more than just one reason, really.

I’m sure some of you have noticed a change in my writings over the past year. The most obvious, my difficult return to true transparency, again, despite the many positive effects honesty and openness, have made in my life and for this blog.

No. Disposing of my heartfelt words was not easy, in the least. However, they were written out of frustration and pain. Needing to yell to the rafters to vent off this anxiety, I chose my preferred method of writing.

It wasn’t until editing finally began, that I experienced, for myself, that raw emotion I’d found so easy to pen in ink. These were the ravings of an extremely outraged woman, full of anger and passion, in equal doses.

Disappointment seasoned this brew, forming a stew, thick and hearty, rich with disgust. Once ingested, though… God! …one of the most bitter of tastes I’ve ever experienced. I, immediately, recognized the only truly discernable flavors that remained, now, were irony and defeat.

I was only about halfway through the very first paragraph, when I forced myself to stop reading, altogether. The thoughts that had plagued my skull all yesterday evening, had taken on a life of their own, once ink met paper. Oh, believe me. It was not a pretty sight, at all.

So, as not to offend, I’m gonna try to rephrase this as best as I’m able. Please note, the possibility is still great that you may be one of my unhappy readers, today. Well… Join the fuckin club.

Wow. I’ve been an idiot this ENTIRE year. Y’all told me I was different, and, now, I truly do get it. I am nothing like the other providers I work around. But, most surprisingly, I’m not a damn thing like you fellas, either. Despite what I may have thought. (I hate giving fuel to those that would love to see me burn, but… I just don’t think I care anymore.)

In a year’s time, I have, finally, managed to gain some respect on that website. It took them awhile to notice, but… finally. Or… So, I thought. What a fool I’ve been. Well, perhaps, that’s not completely true. No. Actually, it’s spot on.

So, hey. What does that make y’all?? Look, I’m sure it’s not absolutely EVERYONE, but if you stand idly by listening, as someone tears another to shreds, doing nothing… Mainly, because, said “victim” has absolutely NO knowledge of the exchange at all, in my very own personal opinion… you are so very much worse than the offender could ever be.

In fact… Kinda makes you a pussy, in my book. But, like I said, that’s just my opinion.

Ha. Ha. Laney. What a kidder. I assure you. This is no joke. Not only do I have nothing in common with the majority of you reading, I am quite sure I have been duped by just about any and everyone on my website, perhaps, just in the hopes of somehow taking advantage of my good nature.

Well, done. You succeeded. I show y’all my appreciation, and it’s completely taken for granted. I loosen the boundaries to make our playtime more fun… Y’all have a fuckin parade up and down my boundary, shouting out my weakness to anyone within earshot.

Well, fuck you. My honesty, integrity, and openness are NOT A FUCKIN WEAKNESS. But, fuck it. I certainly don’t expect any of y’all to understand.

How could you understand me? I obviously


2017-07-10-02-02-42-752Hey, Friends! Lemme tell you about something new, I just recently heard. I know. I definitely owe ya’ll an apology for my extended absences of late. And, you absolutely deserve one. I’m very sorry.

But, first, in my defense, most of you have probably seen me since my last post here. I’ve been working my azz off. Actually, if you’ve seen me lately, then you know, firsthand, how much azz has actually been working around here. Oh, yeah. You get my drift.

I wanna discuss something new. New to me, at least. A phrase quite commonly used in escort terminology that I’ve never even heard before. An abbreviation to better describe a fella’s experience with an escort.

Okay, this dashingly handsome older gent and I were exchanging pleasantries as he dressed to leave, and he begins speaking of why he had wanted to cum see me so badly. A friend of his had just visited with me recently, and had wonderful things to say about our encounter. Sure. He found me attractive, but, mostly, he was attracted to the fact that I didn’t seem to have an IOP.

I was dumbfounded! What is this IOP, and where can I find it? I need some immediately, if I’m the only one without!

 He stopped me before I could even ask. It seems you really don’t want an IOP. You see… IOP stands for Imitation Of Passion. WTF??

IMITATION OF PASSION?? Is this even a phrase, people? Why would someone, who’s considering a small tryst with an escort, be concerned about an imitation, of any kind? I mean, seriously. Don’t you fellas get enough Imitation Of Passion at home? Oops, sorry. Just sayin…

Okay. So, the consensus among the fellas send to be that providers are just imitating the real thing. Imitating passion. Imitating lust. IMITATING ORGASMS! You gotta be fuckin kidding me! I mean, why would ANYONE turn down gettin off?? It’s absolute insanity to me.

Like there’s not enough things for y’all to have to think about, plan, and consider before you cum see us. Let’s please add some bullshit on top of all that. So, sad. So very, very sad.

Why would someone even choose this type of job if they were planning on just fakin it with every sexual encounter? Seriously. I mean, do you work at McDonald’s if you don’t like burgers? Well, okay. Some people actually HAVE TO work there, but they certainly wouldn’t if they actually had a choice. The smell of burgers alone would make them sick. Doesn’t the smell of fallaciousness make you just wanna vomit?

I know, I certainly wouldn’t go see anyone with an IOP. Not if I was a man. Not, even, if I was a woman. Not if she’s faking it, there’s no way I would see her. If she’s just gonna fake everything, then I, DEFINITELY, don’t wanna see her. I don’t wanna have anything to do with her. Because, the truth is, she doesn’t truly wanna be with me.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’ve certainly faked it, myself. But, I was young. I was foolish. Fuck! You got me! There was this guy, just recently… But you don’t understand! There was absolutely NO chemistry AT ALL. Of course, he protested, describing his NEED in great detail. Against my gut and better judgement, I participated in one of the most awkward and forced experiences EVER. (Quite an accomplishment, really.) But, hey, he’s the only one in many, many years.

Now that you are aware of what IOP stands for, you’d probably presume that having an IOP is a bad thing. Ah, but you would be wrong. Actually, fellas are expecting IOP. So, the less of it you have, the better. If you’ve been attempting to mimic true passion during sex, it’s been noticed. Of course, it’s been noticed.

I don’t ever wanna be associated with this IOP shit. I enjoy my amazing sex. I like sucking and fuckin and just flowing with the chemistry. Sometimes, that’s NOT fuckin and sucking, but something even more sensual and subdued. Each experience is especially unique in it’s own way.

They do have one thing in common, though. They are always genuine. Well… except for that one guy. (I’m telling you, there was just no fuckin chemistry, friends!)

Finally. The bitchin you’ve all cum to expect. Fellas, this one is for you. Listen, you have got to quit cummin over here with the goal of making me squirt more than anyone before ever has. It’s just not fair. For so many reasons, it’s not fair.

The main reason being, of course, it is actually harmful to my health. A lot of you don’t know, but I’ve had kidney failure a few times before. Three to be exact. I cannot, ABSOLUTELY CANNOT,  expel that much fluid from my body, and still find the time and energy to put it all back in before seeing someone else. Lately, I’ve been very dehydrated. I’ve been tired. I’ve been weak. I can’t seem to function as well as I used to.

Well, I can tell you what’s changed. For the past year, I’ve been on a site that describes my sexual escapades in vivid detail. Now, a large majority of my new friends are cummin at me with the loftiest of goals that, unfortunately, cannot ALWAYS be attained.

Look, I love sex. I love to orgasm. I, DEFINITELY, love to squirt. But ya’ll aren’t truly attracted to me just because of that. You like me because I’m genuine. I don’t fake it, and, you know, I certainly don’t bullshit about anything. I’ve never made you assume that I was someone that I was not.

I AM a freak. And, freaks just love to see other freaks get off. We love to get other freaks off, ourselves. We love to get off with you. Sometimes, we even love to be the star attraction. But, certainly, NOT EVERY TIME. So, take me off that pedestal, and start fuckin me like you want to.

What I mean is, if you want a shower show,  then let it be a natural thing. Don’t force it. Never force a date. Don’t ever pre-plan a date. Okay, I know you’re going to fantasize about us in advance, but don’t pre-plan the details. If you’d like me to wear something special, I will. But, beyond that, you really should have no expectations. As I, also, have left all my expectations behind.

We cum together, AS IS. Of course, I’ll be the one all dolled up and sexy. But, nothing else truly different about either of us. I just wanna meet YOU, because YOU are the one I wanna fuck. With every new encounter, our conversation will reveal your hidden desires, so that we may, then, incorporate them into future play, for maximum stimulation EVERY TIME we meet.

You know, ya’ll really don’t give me the credit that I deserve in this area. When it comes to sex, I’m usually right on the mark. Shit. I’ve loved it for 38 years now, so my knowledge on it is quite vast. I also, intuitively, seem to glean what direction to take things in. Your body tells me. When you moan. Especially when you don’t moan. When you wiggle or jerk. When your eyes flutter, or you start to lick your lips. I can tell. Oh, I can definitely tell. So, don’t worry, sweetheart. I got this. Take all that pressure off your shoulders. Hey. We’re making memories here. Loosen up a little bit. This is going to be fun

Oh, and, for you, ladies. Cum on. Y’all know I can’t leave ya’ll out. Even if you hate me, who cares? You still need to hear this. So, LISTEN UP..

Why would an escort have an IOP? No. I’m thinking, maybe, you should ask yourself that question. You liked sex before. Right? You must have when you first started, or you wouldn’t have made it this long in the business. So… what happened? Where did it go?

I do a lot of things that help keep me in ‘the mood’.  I’ve done far more to discourage myself in times that I’m unable to get OUT of ‘the mood’. We’ll just stick to the first for ya’ll. The later doesn’t seem to be a problem I share with too many others.

I like to listen to music that I find sexy. Right now, it’s just about any kind of song with a beat strong and hard enough to cause my azz to move. I definitely enjoy moving it, that’s for sure. No matter what type of music you enjoy, you should listen to it more often. Loosens up your soul to listen to music. Lightens your heart, also. I mean, what could it hurt? Just try it. Preferably, before a date, would be nice. Sexy music is going to make you feel sexy. It has that unique quality to it. I don’t know how but… JUST TRY IT..

Sorry, but that’s the only tip I have for ya’ll today. Can’t give up all my secrets. But, think about your ‘friends’ (you know what I mean) as people. Not as dollar signs. Or bills. Or bucks. And, certainly, not bands. They’re people. They’re men. Most of them broken down from many years of being turned away. They might not feel quite as sexy as they once were. They come to you in need of affection, attention, and compassion. Oh, and, of course, sex. But, notice, sex was not the first thing that I listed.

You might not believe it, but, when you turn them away for ridiculous reasons (i.e. what he looks like), essentially, you are telling him that he’s not good enough for you. He’s not good enough for her. He’s not good enough for anyone. He’s just not GOOD ENOUGH.

Now, if that IS what you’re trying to say… Fuck you. You really shouldn’t be here. One day, someone will see beyond your tits and ass to the callousness of your soul. Then… you’ll just fade away.

Perhaps you didn’t realize how paramount your position truly is for your new friend. It may look like sex, but it’s so much more. It’s a relationship, of sorts. One, where, greater intimacy can only be created through trust. Without trust, there can never be TRUE intimacy. No one trusts a liar.

Fellas, I say this, knowing full well, that I might not always have the time to accommodate each and every one of you. However, if you’re seeing a provider that does not show you, in every which way, that she is happy to see you, that she wants you there, that she cares about your experience… Just get rid of her. You’ve been wasting your money on someone that is, essentially, just bringing you down. No one deserves that. No one.

Now, look. I’m running a little late on what I have to do today because I spent too much time talking to y’all. It’s been very busy around here, as of late. I’m happy to report, the relationship between my 16 year old daughter and I has greatly improved. But, visits take time. My son is away and is always beggin for letters from his mama. So, there’s that. Oh, and of course, my precious documentaries… But, there just isn’t enough time. So, another day.

Until then, maybe IOP should stand for Idiots Of Pensacola. However, it wasn’t a local man who gave me this info. He was definitely from outta town. So, it might not catch on here in Pensacola. But, I think you get the drift. Oh, cum on. You KNOW you get the drift. You ALWAYS get MY drift.

Thank goodness, or I might just sail, right on, away.

Yeah, right! Fuck off, haters. Freaks Rule Here!! Whoop! Whoop!

Bare Back

Okay. I get it. I finally get it. I’m pretty much in this thing alone. Shit! How the fuck did this happen??

Somewhere along the winding road of life, I’ve deterred into unknown territory. While my senses are awakened and set afire, I’ve become engulfed in a sea of sharks out to devour my flame.

Why mine? Why me?? It seems clear. I DO NOT fit in here. I’m needed, but not WANTED. Interesting environment to continue to thrive in, I’d say. More amazingly, I’ve actually flourished here.

Well… HA! Fuck Ya’ll Haters! Okay, so, maybe I shouldn’t be here. Perhaps I’m actually missing from some gigantic orgy of trembling flesh. Not in the midst of actual flesh peddlers.

But, I’m fuckin here! So, GET USED TO IT, bitches! Looks like this business needs to be brought back to it’s roots. Back, so far back, when whores were truly just fancy sluts. HEY! I’M A FANCY SLUT!!

And, I am on the hunt for others, like myself. Girls with natural sensuality and a desire difficult to contain. They wore little clothes, because they were more comfortable without them. Ladies of the evening who seemed to never sleep, unless a few stolen moments on the chest of some lucky late night visitor.

They never worked, because fuckin was never just a job to them. They worshipped cock and were rewarded with adoration by all suitors. Their skills were honed by experience, delicious and deafening. They held a rank far above girlfriend and far West of wife. Time ceased to move in their lovin arms, all troubles momentarily erased.

Yes. Things have certainly changed. Well, I’m not done, people. They can make me the fool or butt of their jokes. Whichever best floats their boat. I’m hoping to find these females, few or many, and introduce them to my very orgasmic world. Here, a lady benefits from being EXACTLY the feminine fox she was born to be. Nothing more. Nothing less.

If you FAKE IT, beware. Me and my newly discovered army of sluts are cummin for that orgy ya’ll didn’t wanna discuss. Guess we’ll see ya’ll there? LOLOL. Yeah right.

Shit. I might just be alone. Hello. Party of one. No worries.


Nobel Deeds

chemistry_4c1765f473811I’ve been tryin to tell ya’ll. That chemistry thang… Well, it’s kinda tricky. Ain’t it? It either IS or ISN’T. Period. The end.

I just recently found myself having this EXACT SAME conversation with… Let’s just say, a new friend. Only moments after meeting face to face, it was all too evident the truth of it all. It’s existence was all too apparent by it’s sheer absence on this particular occasion. He couldn’t deny it, either. I certainly never would. There just was just, absolutely, NO CHEMISTRY, whatsoever, between us.

Oh, he was quite attractive, and he didn’t smell or anything. It just… Wasn’t there. As hot as we both may have been upon entering the room, no true lust was ever exchanged before leaving it. I told ya. You just can’t fake it, people.

Now, yesterday, I enjoyed an INTENSELY chemical reaction of cosmic proportions. There was no doubt the attraction was great, from the very beginning. Okay. Perhaps not from the very, VERY beginning. (He kinda sounded like a snob on the phone. Shit. My bad.)

Thank God, I went with my most basic instincts on this one, or I might have not even taken the chance. Cum to find out, our chemistry was off the charts, and the attraction was absolutely palpable. I found myself flirting with him like a schoolgirl, whispering naughty nothings in his ear over a quiet lunch at the Bonefish Grill (my first ever). He turned me on. Plain and simple.

Oh, I’d love to say it had more to do with some sort of a decision, but, I’d be totally lying. I didn’t decide shit. It was that attraction; that invisible, purely physical response to the other’s presence. It can’t be seen or fully explained, but, I can, most assuredly, relate to you now, IT DOES EXIST and IF IT’S THERE, YOU’LL KNOW IT.

You’ll feel it. Just as wonderfully as I, myself, did about a million times after yesterday’s meal. Okay. Maybe not A MILLION times, but surely, like, a good ten, at least, from my perspective. Surely, this dark-haired, southern gentleman, with the devilish grin, put so many fucking fabulous O’s on me that I found myself totally dehydrated and thoroughly exhausted, following our little tryst. (Have you ever been so fuckin tired that you couldn’t quite go to sleep, yet, you just couldn’t keep your eyes open?? Now, ya feel me!)

There were so many different levels of stimulation with this man. From conversation to body language to the passion in his kiss. I loved the way he fucked my face. And nothing felt better than cumming all into the palm of his hand. I couldn’t explain it anymore before, than I can, now, hours after his departure.

I’m just not gonna bring it up again. I’m just sayin, I just really think that maybe there should be, like, a Nobel Prize in this for me. Or something. Sure, a few scientists have spoken of the laws that encompass attraction, but have they gone so far as to actually PROVE these findings? I think not. (I think I should google before I make such bold statements publicly.) Have they put in the documented field work? That’s all I’m askin.

MasterHead69 should, TOTALLY, get some kind of an award for all of the volunteer work (okay, maybe that’s pushing it, but I do ask for donations…), hard learned experimentation (hard, alright), and many, many late nights I’ve dedicated to this area of study. Wouldn’t that, kinda, make me, like, a humanitarian. Huh? (Where IS my dictionary??)

Perhaps, I’m embellishing just a bit, but, most certainly, I AM giving back to the community, people. I’m giving back, daily. I’m making people happy, putting smiles on faces, smacking azzes, sending home happy husbands, and swallowing cum. Hey. I’m just overjoyed to be enjoying myself so damn much. And, I GET TO GET OFF, TOO. (Like, you ever had a choice.)

Nasty Lil Boogers

Today was complete shit! I knew it from the moment I woke up. I passed my living room mirror, like I do everyday along the worn path to my coffee pot. I hadn’t quite understood it yet, but I knew something was off.

On my way back by, warm thermos in hand, I just stop, right there. Directly in the shadow at the center of, what used to be, an early morning reflection of my three living room windows. No brilliantly, warm rays of sunshine, like I’ve become accustomed to these past few months, joined me today. No sunlight piercing my rentinae, just so, as to leave a bright glare of ambiguity over anyone’s face I, just so happen, to meet today.

My dearest friends… It wouldn’t matter, anyway. You couldn’t see a fuckin thing out there in my yard this morning. NOTHING AT ALL! It was just, way too, fuckin dark.

And overcast. Today was, most certainly, an overcast day. Actually, with the thick forest canopy that drapes across the majority of my house and property, overcast seems to have become far more commonly referred in my house as… Just Plain Gross.

So, yes. Today was very, very, undercast. And dark. And, filled, wall to wall, with frigidly, chilled drops of percipication. You feelin me, now? That’s JUST PLAIN GROSS. Told Ya. Ugh.

My wearied, yet, oddly petrified, home sits, right, smack dab, in the middle of it all. It is surrounded on all sides by bushes and trees and flowering shrubs, aplenty. Quite beautiful and sirene, really… At times.

I know it must be a lot calmer around this place when everything is all blooming at once. Actually, cum to find out, I got jipped on that. (Big shocker there.) My residence will never find itself completely emmersed in the thick, blooming tapestry of nature, like I had originally pictured, so clearly, in my mind.

My landlord had planted this colorful seed of thought so very well while we were out at our lease signing dinner, way back in February. Oh, it bloomed, alright. It bloomed uncontrollably, and, all-too vividly, in that rich fertile soil that makes up my plot of rental land, ever since the day he covered it with earth.

But everything all open at once… Now, that was all made up. Dick, himself, sold me on that stupid garden idea. These plants and flowering bushes DO NOT, nor WILL THEY EVER, bloom simulataniously. That sirene and comforting vision I’d created of an old, silent house sitting quietly by, as thousands of flowers, whose petals, varied by the hundreds in shape and size, overflowed with such crayola-like brilliance, that, indeed… “I gotta wear shades.”

Of course, my fantasy, absolutely, DID NOT include the many, Many, MANY bugs that would, undoubtedly, find themselves hopelessly, and, utterly, helplessly attracted to the comfort of this paticular eco-system, created by my yard, home, and the living things all about ALL of the above. These creepy crawlers, or loud winged, pilots of antenna, tend to accumulate, quite naturally.

Indeed, it seems that areas allowed to thrive, germinate, pollinate, and flourish with absolute abandon, are far more likely, than not, to be completely overrun… Sometimes, EVEN, ravished or demolished by some greedy group of painful, biting, stinging, itching, burning, tiny, little… creatures. They lust for the intoxicating nectar of our rich, thick, red blood cells, often losing the very life they lead, in the fruitless persuit of it’s thick, irony, flavor.

Hey. Maybe they just enjoy a good party. Who DOESN’T enjoy a good party? And, no party is a party AT ALL, without inviting over a coupld hundred thousand family, friends, and fuck buddies. All the while, my greenery is getting loose and freaky. It’s most convincing role, by far, was the primary one of selfless host to the hoard of annoying insects that just moved into my home without my permission. Literally, just now, with all of this rain.

Okay, so my yard might, quite possibly, be made up of some of the richest, heartiest, most-fertile soil available to anyone on this spinning blue rock that we, lovingly, refer to as, “our home.” This… dirt… It nourishes EVERY plant so completely from within, that, it seems to be actually overriding nature’s most common laws of attraction and need. I didn’t even know that was possible.

Perhaps, we’ve become so accustomed to seeing nature act, ALWAYS, just so… NATURALLY, within this very delicate framework of laboring insects and photosynthesizing plants. Changing ANYTHING at all about this very simple and common, yet, totally complex, system of life could, and possibly, would, bring about great chaotic happenings, until, utter tragedy is the only possible outcome. GREAT TRAGEDY of MAMMOTH PROPORTIONS.

I know you are reaching so far out, just barely grazing the inner flesh of my palm with one lone fingernail. But, it’s not enough, is it? You gotta know… There’s NO OTHER WAY!

“Laney, just what the fuck are you talking about? Where’d the fuckin bugs all go??”

Exactly. You do understand. You do. Let me help you here, just a bit.

Simply put… “I killed me some goddamed spiders today, friends.” Spiders, roaches, flies… you name it. If it’s small and disgusting and tends to frequent old houses, I fuckin streamed poison down it’s gullet. I laid it out with the heavy hand of my hammer. (Now, that one hole… Now, that DOES have to be explained. Eventually…) I dissected it limb from limb, until it’s species was completely unknown due to lack of enough pertinent information. I FUCKING DID THE DAMN THANG, PEEPS!

WAIT. Just WHAT THE FUCK did you think I was talking about? Oh, no! You so NASTY! LOL.

Look, it was absolutely the highlight of my day. If you think that I could ever even presume to leave something so very fuckin important out of my blog… Think again, pests. This exterminator thinks, perhaps, she actually DESERVES a smoke.

My only wish now, would be for more time. Extended hours in which I could complain just a little. Just call me Goldilocks, and witness me improperly using all of your chairs and lounging furniture for my own sadistic benefit. Just me, sitting here, going on and on and on about my problems. You, there, listening as intently as possible (without me realizing you are tweeting on the other side of your thigh), making sure to nod in all of the appropriate places.

But, I ain’t got time for that shit! I’ve got only a limited amount of wakeful hours to complete every task. There are new friends to be met, fresh orgasms to experience, and far too many delicious memories in need of branding directly into the soft, pink flesh of delicate skull. There’s just NO TIME!

I’ve found that the easiest way for me to not look down is, simply put, to JUST LOOK STRAIGHT UP. It’s so difficult to get down too far when your stuck way up there in the clouds. And, now, that you truly see what I’ve been talking about this entire time…

Oh, please, Won’t you just step on it real quick?? Ahhh! Excellent. Sorry. I’ve been staring that widow down so long, I was gonna have to name the bitch. The standoff, alone, was well worth a medal. (Of smaller proportions, of course, so as to fit that tiny little insect chest of her’s. And… Well, hell. She actually looks much better now. I took off, at least, a third of her azz with one foul swish of my broom. No thanks needed. Just being a good friend.

Oooh. Ok. I’ve DEFINITELY got to go get that tissue now. I think I just found her azz…

UR no trip. More like, a Fuckin Vacation.

2017-06-05-05-51-11-344[1]Have you ever seen anyone stumble?? It begins as a small stutter in their step. Just enough to throw them off balance. Suddenly, their feet begin to trip one right over the other, repeatedly. This slow-motion, dance of chaos, ALWAYS, EVENTUALLY, ends with a great big landing of pain and agony.

It seems my life has always been, very much, like that stumble. Every now and then, you might, actually, catch me upright and moving forward, powered by my very own momentum. Of course, just as soon as I’m about to pat myself square on the shoulder in accomplished glee, I trip; stumble; almost plant myself, face-first, into the sidewalk that loomed ever closer beneath my, oh, so, unsteady feet.

Seriously. Who would REALLY be all that surprised to see me do that? Just watch me skid directly down onto my face? Not me. Not NO ONE! Shit! It’s happened plenty of times before. I’ve begun my life over again, so many times, that I’m, intensely, weary of it. And, of course, just, dead tired of moving my meager belongings from one place to another. Or, having to replace ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING, all over again. (That happens more often than not.) It’s probably just my age. (A lady’s 20’s can be so difficult, you know.)

I’d have to say, my very first stumble was walking down the aisle to accept my high school diploma, 8 1/2 months pregnant. Believe me, that was, actually, nothing. Sure, I may have THOUGHT it was the end of my world. And, truthfully, it was the end of the world as I knew it, at that time. Little did I know, my entire life would be packed full of close calls. Or, stumbles. If you prefer.

Yup! That was, DEFINITELY, one hell of a stumble. However, I have, yet, to fully hit the ground. It’s, like, my feet just refuse to give into the fall. There is no doubt, that, anyone who witnesses this precarious balancing act of mine, would, quite possibly, find themselves in an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Trust me. When I fuck up, I do it with bells and whistles.

That’s EXACTLY what I’m talking about. My life is so ridiculous. I mean, just, absolutely, ridiculous. Almost, as if, I have no control over any of it, at all. I guess no one, truly, ever does. Shit! That’s enough for ya’ll?? I am not sure that is anywhere near enough for me.

I know you’re trying to read my words before I can even type them. You want to know of my new transgressions. Yes. Well, I’m in some kind of mood, today. I’m not sure this post will even make much sense. But…you know me. I must vent it up, out and off; into the universe (before it truly begins to break me).

Did you know that you can actually become weary from bitchin?? Me either. LOL. Until now. I don’t wanna yell. Or scream. Or make a huge display out of anything. I do need to unload some of these emotional burdens that are recently plaguing my spirit. Quickly, before my knees, finally, buckle for good. Not only will I fall… This time, I’m not sure I’ll have the strength to get back up. So… Here goes.

(One might possibly refer to this as short and sweet.)

Okay, to the fellas out there that owe me cash… OH, STOP! You know who the fuck you are! I agreed to give ya’ll another chance. Of course, I didn’t tell you what I expected. (Decency and respect. A fuckin apology and the money you owe me back would be nice) No. Because, as much as ya’ll have claimed to care about me, you should know exactly how these dates should have transpired.

Now, was I surprised to find only a single donation left behind for me?? GOD, NO! OF COURSE, NOT. You, see… I’m not fuckin stupid. Ya’ll ripped me off, already. Completely, off. With no remorse or guilt, at all. Goddamnit, D Panty!!! I didn’t even hear from you for, like, SIX FUCKIN MONTHS, after you stiffed me on my rent money!! (You even lied and said you were gonna bring it by. Didn’t give a fuck about me having a place to live, that’s apparent.) 

Nope. I set ya’ll up. Actually, I just didn’t tell you what to do. Why should I give you hints on how not to be a fuckin douchebag?? Eh? If you gave, even, half a shit about me, you would have known instinctively. Selfish, greedy pricks. It’s the fuckin principle. YA’LL USED ME!

If that wasn’t LOUD or CLEAR enough, DON’T FUCKIN CALL OR TEXT OR EMAIL ME, AGAIN. I NO LONGER WISH TO CONTINUE A FRIENDSHIP WITH SUCH LOSERS. (You fuckin heard me. What you did was steal. You stole from me. You’re thieves. And, too fuckin lame to even realize it.) GOOD RIDDANCE.

I’m used to people fuckin me over. I only ask one thing, and that is, please don’t ever lie to me. And if you do, admit it immediately. Friends work through shit TOGETHER. Friends DO NOT, however, bullshit each other. I’ve never lied to you. Fuck you for ever lying to me.

Is it so hard to be honest?? Is it so difficult to trust someone? Why is it so difficult for anyone to be trusted?? 

Look, friends. I’m stumbling. My head is spinning, and my feet are tripping repeatedly over each other. I’m concerned. Besides, I’m not ready for road rash. (YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT PAIN.) 

Truthfully, if I WERE to fall… This time, I think I’m just gonna stay completely down. I’ll pretend to be dead, so all of you phonies can retreat, rather than fake concern for my well being. Besides, it’s probably better down there, anyway. There’s way TOO MUCH, fuckin hot air up here. (And, I’m pretty sure someone farted.)

Now, go away. I’m down and inconsolable, at present time. Besides, I may have stumbled, but you’re really the one who’s trippin.

Enjoy the ride prepared for you personally by my good friend Karma.