Another idle thought or two

As you know we do love a good online store, particularly those who offer multiple companies from around the world. The great joy of being off season to the rest of the world, well the parts that count, is that you can pick up the odd bargain. But that is not what this is about. No this is about the odd thoughts that occur as one peruses the pages clutching morning mouse...

The world is full of ugly clothes and if a nearly six foot model can't make them look good, how in the hell are the rest of the worlds mere mortals supposed to wear them? And why is it that the ugliest, baggiest, most unflattering things are always the ones that sell out first? Why is it that women pick the things that make the model look like a bag lady and think oh that will look fabulous?

And how can the world support that many shape wear companies? For that matter how cold does it have to be to want to wear an extra layer of clothes under your clothing? Personally one can't wait to get home and strip off the bra, let alone pants that come from under the bust to the knee.

Why is it that mornings are always full of more questions than answers? Mutters there really isn't enough coffee some mornings L

A nice cold dish of revenge

Or how the universe always conspires with Him

Arriving home tonight there was a parcel on the bench. Now it might be addressed to Him, but rather than rat through the bag...

When did we start to get all parcels in plastic bags? There was more mystique to a box firmly wrapped in brown paper, string, a life time supply of Sellotape (sticky tape to other parts of the world) and stamps from exotic locations.

 He had left it like an offering.

Now to the untrained eye it would look like a peace offering, but the minute the fingers touched the bag one recognised it for what it was; bait. Dropping the parcel one backed away slowly and made a wide birth. See one small slave knows what's in that bag...

It's full of nasty, scratchy costumes...

Including a much threatened Playboy bunny costume...

So it really isn't in one's best interest to open the damn parcel at all...

Bastard!

Mail tampering

He opens every bit of electronic mail that comes to one small slave. It's not that He has some idea that one needs to be protected from the outside world. No, it's because He really is even nosier than oneself. It wouldn't be so bad, but He is also the worst social secretary on earth 'cos sometimes he just forgets to mention that one had mail. But that is not what this is about...

This is about crossing the line.

A parcel arrived today. Now, one knows this 'cos the contents of the parcel were spread across the bench when one got home. Feeling more than a little miffed one enquired as to why He felt the need to bust open the parcel that was addressed to one's self... quite clearly no doubt. His answer was a classic...

Um... did it occur to you that one might like to open it? After all one doesn't receive much in the way of mail... except bills... which He seems to deem beneath his notice.

He looked blank for a second and said no

Do you not get any pleasure from riffling through your packages when they arrive?

No. I usually know what they are He replied

So you didn't know what this was and you thought I'll open this one instead?

Well it was quite large and I thought I'd get rid of the mess.

This, from a man who suffers the worst case of domestic blindness known to any woman, anywhere...

Frankly one calls bullshit!

The man is a snoop, plain and simple K

Squeeee!

Tonight one arrived home to find a present on the bench from Him. Now as many of you know presents from Him are not always thing that... well... any girl in her right mind would want. Some of them have been downright painful. This however, was different.

What was in the package was some lingerie. Again historically some of that has been cause for dread too. But this was completely different. This was just gorgeous. It is a deep burgundy/ plum lace mesh with tiny sequins to accent the flowers on the borders of the design.

There is a bra, knickers, fully boned suspender belt and a... not sure what you call it to be honest. It's sort of a bra, slip and suspender combination. All very sexy and of course all, well except for the bra, too hot to wear as the weather starts to crank up...

Oh...

The man is a complete fucking sadist!

Bastard!

Miscalculation

Putting a bag of dried figs on the conveyer belt at the supermarket, one gave Him a meaningful stare and stated "mine" in an emphatic tone. See figs are one of those fruits that one small slave is inordinately fond of. The trouble is so is He.  The difference is that He saves his for the free day while one is inclined to nibble them when a sweet tooth is driving one to distraction. Of course there is the odd time that He has been known to flitch one or two, which has historically led to half a packet disappearing under not very mysterious circumstances.

He smiled down on one and moving closer said oh really? Figuring it was safe, after all we were in a supermarket, what could He do, one nodded firmly and said really! He moved closer and slid the icy cold bottle of coke zero that was in his hand, up the back of one's rather naked leg and said are you sure? Normally this would make one break, but summer is just round the corner. The cold bottle felt rather good. Really one repeated firmly.

He moved the bottle to the front of the thigh and slid it further up the leg. Again... not that cold any more... the sensation was quite pleasant. In fact feeling quite bold the mouth opened and the words "you can't make me" slid out. Realising the utter folly of such a statement one hastened to mitigate the damage...

Umm... that was not and in no way meant to be construed as a challenge one hastened to clarify

That was definitely a challenge He said smirking

No, it was a mistake.  In fact one misspoke altogether

His smirk had a disbelieving cast to it

So here one is... caught between the smart thing, which is to give Him the figs, and the responsible thing by him, which is to withhold the figs for his own good. All of this is skating on that fine ice made of words...

Sighs no good is going to come of this L

Professional sadists

As some of you know today was the day for the mammogram and what felt suspiciously like an ultrasound.  It certainly had that lube like substance in common with one. The plan had been to do the tests and nip out for a spot of lunch. After that it wasn't an option. For the record Pink and Perk need more than two small towels to get that much gloop off.

It was everywhere from the neck to the ribs and from the armpits to the sternum. The only way to get it off was to run home for a shower, where the damn stuff proved as hard to get off as any lube. Water based? Like hell. Ewwwwww! Just ewwww! L

The mammogram wasn't too bad. Right up until she came back with what looked suspiciously like one of those things that you poke vegetables down into a food processor with. With a professional smile and not a note of regret she said now this might hurt a little. The breast was clamped under the damn thing until one was saying ow! Actually it was the third ow and it was louder than the last two. That's it she said cheerily and as she was about to walk away, and was conveniently out of range, she gave the damn thing another spin for luck.

Dear gods one suspects they are right...

If you find a job you like you never work a day...

You go on to become a personal trainer or someone in the medical field.

No wonder those guys always seem so damn cheery L

Wheedling

You know one said, surreptitiously stroking His new t-shirts as they lay on the lounge, these feel fabulous.  He glanced in one's direction.  And one does need some new t-shirts to wear around the house...

The glance turned to a flat glare which was followed by an emphatic no.

But they are very thin and you won't like the feel of them on.

I might He replied... there was a truculent tone in the voice

Have you even tried them on yet?

No

Slipping one on... just to see if it did fit mind... one small slave shimmied around in it

Get that off He growled

You know you won't like them on and one could give them such a loving home

You mean you will wear them until they have holes in them and they are falling to bits He retorted

 Well is it any wonder when He won't share them? Honestly the man is completely unreasonable L

Having a second brain

Having gone to the gym and wrecked a large chunk of the body...

It was legs and shoulders day and it is the most gruelling of all the programmes. Not only does it engage one of the largest muscle groups it also heavily engages the abs and weakest body parts on one small slave, namely the shoulders. In the beginning it was tough, but as time has gone on and one has got smaller it has become not only a physical challenge but a mental one.  By the end there it is hard to stay upright let alone be effective. But one does digress...

One small slave hit the shower and plopped down on the couch to watch an episode of Lewis armed with snacks. There was a couple of cold lamb chops, a bit of blue vein cheese, an illicit apple and some nuts to fill in the spaces. Actually put on paper that looks like rather an alarming amount of food for a bed time snack... but again one does digress.

He emerged snagging a fig from a secret stash one had foolishly left out. Actually He raided the nut supply too, completely ignoring the glares of outrage one was shooting at him as he did so. The man has no respect for food supplies... but again that digressing thing.

After eating breakfast... His own this time... and getting ready He stood there mentally doing inventory of the contents of his bag.

Have you got your water?

Yes

Have you got your lunch?

Yes

Well here endith one small slave's responsibilities one said, mentally thinking wonder if He has his phone. Oh well it wasn't food related, besides He never forgets the damn thing unlike oneself who never remembers to plug it in let alone take it. He shot out the door doing the white rabbit.

A few minutes later there was a screech of brakes as He pulled up and bodily flung himself through the front door.

Guess who forgot His phone?

Slave fail... small shame face

Breast torture

What are we doing this weekend He enquired?

Umm... standing there one racked the brain quietly trying to remember...

You know these questions always bug the hell out of one. He was there when the plans were made, in fact he signed off on them. How is it He never remembers them????

There is RPG on Sunday... OK He might well not remember that, it's his doomed game... and there is the mammogram on Monday, followed by the heady excitement of grocery shopping Tuesday... actually we would both prefer to be able to forget about that. And to be perfectly honest one would just love to forget all about the Monday appointment L

If it helps don't think about the mammogram as a health check He said helpfully, think of it as breast torture by a professional. He then segued into an impromptu bit of improvisation that rivalled anything out of that orgasm scene from When Harry Met Sally. It would probably make a nice change for them to not have to hear the usual complaints about how much it hurts.

You know just sometimes He isn't helpful at all...

In fact you could just freak them out and tell them that you've brought your own nipple clamps He added, warming to his idea.

So not helpful...

Wonders quietly if this is what they mean when they talk about not involving others in your kink non-consensually 

Oh bugger

Now some of you may remember one small slave's appreciation  of Taylor Swift and her musical talents...

You may want to bear this appreciation in mind as you read this...

Anyway, in amongst some of that shopping for summer one was heavily engaged in during the holidays was a pair of lovely bright apple green jeans. Needless to say it is a colour that will be impossible to match. So the bright idea was to find a pair of navy Keds. Personally one likes Keds 'cos they have a curved last in them unlike Chucks (which one can't wear at all). Of course there were no navy Keds to be found anywhere...

So seeing this pair of yellow shoes one thought those will do...

Aren't they lovely and bright?

They look like little suns...

Look quite spiffy with the jeans too...

In fact, enamoured as one was, it wasn't until taking them off that something hitherto overlooked was noticed.

It seems that Taylor Swift does a range of endorsed Keds...

Yes that's right; one small slave might have inadvertently supported that... singer

Sighs maybe it is better when He is in charge of the shoes. HIs choices may be death traps, but at least things like this wouldn't happen L

He was wrong

No, not Him... though he has on the odd occasion. No in this case one was thinking of Sartre. His writing is most often translated as "hell is other people". For the record, hell is going back to work. Being stuck with people isn't anywhere near as hellish as the act of being trapped there for hours, rather than being with Him.

Told you so

Well it has ended... there is no more holidays left. It has been a strange time, woefully short and vaguely unsatisfying. To be honest one is rather jack of spending every holiday in some sort of recovery of something. This one has been no different.

The body celebrated the last day by feeling fine. That bloody headache ended. In fact one achieved more spring cleaning in one afternoon than had been achieved all holiday. That in its self sucked might one add.  No one wants to have "got some spring cleaning done" as their holidays crowning jewel. Well maybe someone does, but one small slave is not in their numbers...

Don't get one wrong there have been a few laughs, some great sex and some fabulous shoes... not the one's He chose... the toes still have live in fear of those ones. And there have been hours devoted to naps... think that might have been the new meds, but naps are never bad things regardless of the reason. Over all though? Meh a firm 4 out of 10

Damn it the next holiday will be better!

A misunderstanding

A woman walks into a shoe shop...

Looking for comfortable shoes for summer...

You know...

Not too high...

Will go with summery things...

Easy to slip on and off...

Good for running around in...

This is what came out of the shoe store...

You can tell the woman had help...

The sort of help that should come with warning labels...

Things like...

Hazardous to small slaves...

Does not help others...

Hazy grasp of English...

Quietly adds comfortable to that list of words that don't mean what He thinks they mean.

Lost days

You know one went on the medication during the holidays to give the body time to adjust or to do whatever vile thing it decided to do in response to it. The first three days were fine... which was somewhat worrying... and then the headache began. Not headaches singular, but one long continuous headache. A headache that devolved into a large migraine for the day... of course it did we had plans for the day.

The trouble is that it isn't as simple as saying it's the medication 'cos it's August. Here August is a time of westerly winds and sinus issues. August is a time of abject misery for the most part. 

So guess it's time to go back to the doctors.

Groans you wait, one will go to the doctors and pay them good money to hear them say keep taking the medication...

Of course they bloody will...

They aren't the one with a continual fucking soul sucking headache

Walks away sulking... loudly

The hidden cost

Part of today was spent finding last minute things for summer. Already the days are hitting 26 (78.8 F) and spring looks like it is going to be bypassed altogether. In fact one small slave has overlooked a personal preference for a sleeve in favour of sleeveless dresses 'cos damn the summer is probably going to be as hot as hell and failing that... long. Of course finding summer stuff in winter is complicated.

Most of our clothing comes from overseas so our seasons follow yours. The trouble is that here there are no seasons. It's either hot or it isn't. There is no gentle cooling or heating process. So while our shops are trying to sell us clothes for spring, as you would know it, the fabrics are too heavy, the shoes are all wrong and there are things like coats on the racks, when what we need is stuff that touches as little as possible.

Now generally one would make do with last years clothes until such a time as the shops get in line with the weather. Of course with the weight loss most of that stuff doesn't fit. Oh there is the odd skirt that is hanging on and the odd t-shirt... mostly stuff that was picked up at end of summer sales. Other than that nothing fits.

When you lose weight people waffle on about the heath benefits. They don't tell you about the cost. Having gone from a size 16 (US 12) to a size 10 (US 6) everything has had to be replaced... several times over in some cases. Bras have gone through six size changes and still haven't settled one suspects. It's not the obvious things that have had to be replaced either. Shoes no longer fit, bags are too big or no longer go with anything, stocking have had to be replaced, coats (for the three days of winter we had), jumpers, knickers (well for the odd time one remembers to put them on), jeans, t-shirts... the list is endless. Honestly you don't realise how much crap is contained in a wardrobe.

Has it been worth it? Well yes. It is nice to just be able to buy things off the rack and not have to find things in larger sizes that don't assume you are a giraffe. And shoe shopping is always a pleasure. But frankly if one doesn't see the inside of a shop again for months it will be too soon. Even He, the king of shopping (and squishing one small slave into clothes that are age inappropriate and miniscule in nature) is completely shopped out.

Of course His shorts, which we bought at the end of summer in preparedness for the hot weather to come, probably won't fit him.

But one isn't going to tell Him that...

No, far better He find out for himself...

Preferably when one isn't around to hear the swearing J

Support down the hole

For a while now we have suspected that one small and increasingly difficult slave might be a bit gluten intolerant. We are planning on getting some blood work done next time we visit the doctors. Historically one always noticed that the stomach sort of blew up whenever too much bread or things of its ilk were consumed. Then on this diet, where a lot of the gluten based carbs were removed, it settled down. Except for free days when if pasta was eaten the body felt like someone had poured petrol through the intestines. Assuming that was not how pasta was supposed to make you feel, the food item in question was regretfully ditched.

Since going on the cholesterol medication that sensitivity has got much, much worse. To the extent that exactly six hours after breakfast, six seems to be the magic number with the stomach... one can always pin point which meal upset the damn tetchy thing... the gastric pain is excruciating.  It does not occur on days where one makes other gluten free choices, so one suspects that the days of gluten based foods have gone. Not that it is that grim in this day and age. There are plenty of carbohydrate choices that will do the body the world of good including quinoa, oats (if a guaranteed gluten free one can be found) and rice... who doesn't like rice pudding for breakfast J

Of course this means that there will be certain items that will be no more...

In fact one did helpfully suggest a list of foods that will not be found on the breakfast menu... ever again including, but not limited to...

Toast

Croque monsieurs

Bacon stuffed pancakes...

Not that those things are found on the breakfast menu these days, but the possibility is always there. Particularly in the case of the crock monsters (as one local whit dubbed them) which can be found just down the road at a local cafe.

You go girl... out of the room while I eat them, was his reply.

Umm... That's not supportive

Yes it is He said. Didn't I start that with you go girl?

Yes, but you added the out of the room at the end. That doesn't make it supportive at all.

Well I am trying to be supportive He said

Yeah, that word doesn't mean what you think it means.

You know one is starting to get worried about HIm. For such a bright guy, whose first language is English, He seems to be struggling of late. Perhaps that decoder ring and joke book they all seem to get issued with, emits some kind of radiation that attacks the language centre of the brain. Whispers that would explain so much... 

Back on the wagon

The strange thing about diet and exercise is that the minion of Satan, otherwise known as the scales, doesn't always tell the whole truth. In fact the damn thing lies. On this diet one has often put on weight or not lost weight at all while still losing inches. A distressing state that He has not experienced... which is damned annoying to one small and slightly competitive slave might one add.

All along though, one has said that the only things that tell the truth are your clothes. Those little fuckers never tell a lie... its part of their rigid nature one suspects. He used to look at one as though slightly insane, but he does that regularly. Personally one thought just you wait and see. Eventually you will reach the point where the scales don't give you the gratification that you seek... particularly when you hit the end of the diet and your body does that strange thing where it seems to redistribute your existing weight into muscle and other odd places.

Like some malign seer one's predictions came true. Satan's minion stopped whispering sweet things in His ear and stopped giving him the gratification that he craved. Oh He was still losing weight, you could see it in the way his t-shirts were hanging, it just wasn't translating into weight loss. Eventually He started to realise that one was... not right per se... more that one wasn't wrong. Whispers He's Scorpio, very Scorpio J

Anyway the plan on this holiday was that we were going to be very, very good. It was the last few weeks of the diet and we wanted to nail it... so to speak. Besides we figured without our physically active jobs we would need to go to the gym regularly at least. Of course most of the plan went awry... as they so often do. We weren't particularly bad... it's just that we weren't particularly good.

Of late His clothes have been telling him unpleasant things. So girding his loins He got back on the scales. For once Satan's minion concurred with the clothes. Well of course they would... after all they are evil. So we are back on the wagon... well more running along side of it.

And you know for the record...

That run hurt everything... including the pride L

In today's non achievements

We did manage to spend the day loafing around... it just wasn't in the same room at the same time. And we did manage to make it out to do grocery shopping... that was more a necessity than anything else. Oh, we did manage to eat rather more than we should... not really a good thing... at all.

Umm.... oh... yeah...

Not much happened here at all.

In fact the highlight might have been doing a little online shopping over morning mouse... even then one didn't actually buy anything.

Sighs think we might just write this day off completely... tomorrow is another day and all that J

Hi ho, hi ho

For some reason work related functions always seem to coincide with holidays. Not sure how that happens, but it works like a charm... every freaking time. Anyway this one was at a venue that has always intrigued one small and extremely nosey slave and there was free product. So off one toddled...

Of course it wasn't that simple...

There was a dress to chose

He likes the neckline

And then one had to spend some time the other day finding the perfect shoe

Must have nailed that part because both the work colleague and a waitress at the venue put their hands up to give them a new home when they are no longer needed J

Even the mice didn't make it

We had plans to go out and forage and then come back to bed and stay there. After all we are on holidays and frankly we have been out every day of the week to the detriment of our sex life. It seemed a simple plan. What could possibly go wrong?

Well it was almost lunch time when we made it out the door for Yum Cha. Not sure what happened there, but it did involve a couple of clothes changes and still we managed to look like the odd couple. He looked like an overgrown adolescent with his Avengers t-shirt and bright red Chucks while one looked like the epitome of a well dressed adult. Again not sure how that happens, but we really need to learn to coordinate better... just not matching outfits coordinated.

Then we paused at a toy shop. We discovered a couple of days ago, as we looked for something for the grandchild, that we are not responsible toy store users. In fact after coming home with two large bags... the largest they have... filled to the brim, we decided that from now on we need to go back to the old system whereby His mother goes out and buys a suitable gift and we pay her for it. Two collectors together, faced with series of toys, are inclined to make... very few choices other than she can't have one without the other(s). Unfortunately there were a couple of pieces that we couldn't get... hence why we were at the crack house toy store once more.

Then there was a quick stop at the computer store, the cheesecake shop, the supermarket and the booze shop. We arrived home in time for cheesecake for afternoon tea... after making the bed and curling up in it to eat the aforementioned treat. That was followed by a post gluttony snooze. We woke up in time to cook dinner and watch something on TV.

Where does the day go He moaned and why does sex always get pushed off the agenda?

Ah well we decided to make food a priority. In the old days we would have...

Reaching across one opened up His robe and sat astride Him as he peeled off one's pj top

Squeezed this in before we went out...

Reclining back on the sofa one wriggled out of the pj bottoms; a process somewhat hindered by His face buried in one's cunt.

In fact we would have done this...

Climbing back into His lap one slid down his hard on

Before breakfast, after breakfast and probably while making the bed

We need to eat less He groaned, buried deep inside of one small sexually forward slave

He says that, but we all know he likes cheesecake J

Safewording and limits and responsibility

On almost any day on Fet you can find someone blithering on about the importance of safewords and how everyone has limits. Over the years one has come to have distinct pangs of regret that one is not allowed to join in these debates 'cos they do look like fun. Everyone gets so impassioned about them and one side or the other always resorts to denigrating someone, name calling, aspersion casting or outright flaming. Whispers He is a mean, mean man.

For some reason it usually seems to be the affirmative side that breaks into this behaviour first. Not sure why that is, but one deeply suspects it is because they always seem to believe that right is on their side. It's a bit like knowing God is on your side. Once you know that, you are cleared for bad behaviour. It's like a free pass from any responsibility other than making the other side see the error of their ways.

Now coming from a place where those words have little meaning and only a hazy understanding of how exactly they are going to help you in a real life, death threatening or impending kitteh amputation situation, one always comes away from those debates with nothing more than a better understanding of how the crusades occurred. This morning though one does have a better understanding of why safewords and limits are important and why one really, really needs them...

After the shoe incident of yesterday the toes are still in pain. Actually they are refusing to cooperate in the walking process without curling up in protest. Obviously the wine was doing a better job of anesthetising them than one realised. But that is not what this is about...

No, the trouble is that the shoes are still in the cupboard...

And the toes are seeing them as a clear and present danger...

He still sees them as hot.

Leaving one to wonder if they can be declared a hard limit 'cos the toes are going to safeword right out of them, given the first opportunity.

Death traps

We went out with our vanillas to their favourite Indian restaurant for dinner. It was divine. The restaurant was intimate, the menus were old school book style with beautiful writing, the napkins were bound with pretty glitzy napkin rings and the food was to die for. Even the wine, which her husband was in charge of, was perfect... which did make one wonder about the time they went out together to chose wine... those selections may not have been the mini-me's fault.

Everything about the evening was perfect... except for one little detail. It was a nagging persistent little detail. In fact even the larger proportion of the wine couldn't overcome that detail... 

The cause of all the consternation you may be wondering.

It was the shoes.

He chose them... actually he chose the dress as well.

And they were perfect.

The right colour, the right style, the right amount of fun

They were also the most uncomfortable shoes in the history of shoes.

They hurt everything

The calves, the Achilles tendon, the toes... oh gods the toes may never recover

Fortunately when we went out to buy shoes for the dress He chose a pair and so did one small slave. They might not have been so cute, but damn they will be more comfortable J

Striking fear in the human heart

Blinking against the wall of light one peered at the computer screen thinking too big, too bright... too much. He on the other hand was perusing over one's shoulder looking for all the world like a cat in a patch of sunlight... bathed in radiance while reflecting equal amounts of smug happiness back. You know He said, taking a moment from what he was looking at, this screen would be great to play computer games on. I bet Skyrim would look awesome.

Sitting there transfixed one remembered the whole Skyrim thing and wondered quietly if you should be allowed to threaten people like that...

Though it might mean one would be allowed to touch the new love

It too would be cast aside...

Hmm... this could work J

More Masterisms

We went out today to acquire new technology. For a while now the main monitor has been dying, well its capacitors have. When turned on the right screen fired up and the left one thought about it. Actually if you listened very hard you could hear it saying I think I can, I think I can. It was very distressing as you sat there with morning mouse while it chanted away, mainly because you expected it to turn around at any moment and say the computer says no.

Of course He went on the bigger is better theory and now one types this on a wall of light. The screen is so damn large that one is pressed back in the chair, as far as the arms will reach, in an endeavour to put distance between the brightness and the eyeballs. First thing... pre mouse... it is a bit much. He assures one that it will get better... read that as He loves it.

Anyway, as we were wandering around finding this technology He stopped to drool over his current lust object, a new laptop. Now generally we take turns buying major appliances and He has paid for the last couple of computers so feeling generous... read slightly guilty... OK if one is honest there was an element of self congratulation there at finding a way to end the tussle for possession of the computer in the morning... one treated him to it. Looking both surprised and delighted... well who doesn't like instant gratification... He made some rash statement about one small slave being allowed to share it.

So is that like if we both want to use it there will some fair and equitable system, whereby either one of us may not win? See after all these years one has learnt to ask for clarification when He uses strange words.

Well, no He said, with a look of distress crossing his whiskers. It means that if I don't want to use it you can.

Yeah let's just add share to that list of words that doesn't mean what He thinks it means shall we K

Crowning achievements

We are on holidays and there is a list of things that need to be done. It's a bit like Santa's list of children. Some are naughty and some are nice. Unfortunately so far the only ones that have been crossed off are the nasty things. The bathroom has been dismantled and scrubbed and the pile of filing... yes let's call it that... has been sorted and shredded.

Other than that not much has been done... though we did make it to hairdressing appointments today so that was nice. And we did spend a large chunk of the morning looking for a pair of shoes to go with the dress for Saturday night dinner with our vanillas. That trip morphed into a shirt hunt for Him. See all of His shirts are assorted shades of purple... his favourite colour. The only trouble with that is so is the dress one is planning on wearing.

You know how couples colour coordinate for things like... oh weddings, formals and dances? Well we were in danger of looking like that couple. Oddly enough it looks rather strange sad creepy at any other time. We do not want to be that couple. At least one of us doesn't. Whispers He can be a very scary man sometimes.

Mind you as one pointed out to Him, this is all his fault. If he hadn't done that spectacular bit of rewiring and made purple a preferred colour... utterly refuse to say favourite colour... all of this planning would have been unnecessary.  That bit of programming... the one that has given Him so much mirth for so long as one's hand reaches unerringly for the purple item of clothing, lingerie, shoe or bag... has come back to bite him on the arse.

Something that has given one small slave a disproportionate amount of mirth...

Bad, bad slave hangs head in shame

For Sarah

Because she asked for it...

His choice in dresses...

Would someone please tell Him...

That is not a dress L

All pleas aside this little creation came from Pink Lipstick, a company that seems to produce a huge range of very little J

Odd responses

We had to go out today to get the new glasses adjusted. This time one didn't let the assistant near them and got the master to do them. A twitch here, a tug there and they fitted like a glove. The man is a near genius with metal and glass... unlike his assistant. While there one thanked him for his lecture on getting a breast exam. Though to be honest you could die while waiting for an appointment. It will be another three weeks before there is an appointment space... unless someone drops off the perch before then L

He was still in a right royal funk about the game. To be honest He rarely gets angry... well you couldn't living with some like oneself, otherwise one small slave would be long dead... but it did make for unpleasant company for the day. In fact His anger made one feel more than a little blue in response. It's not a rational thing, but it is very hard knowing that this situation can't be fixed and as a person one is rather fixer orientated.

In brighter news the missing butt plugs were found while cleaning out the lingerie. So it might not have been Him... and his suspicions might have been justified. But the hall cupboard still needs to be cleaned out... whatever he may think. It has to be done now because in a few weeks it will be too hot. Winter is over and the days are clear and warm enough for crickets to be out in the evening already.  Summer is on the way...

Not that one is looking forward to that... the bikini arrived L

And for that matter not sure why finding the butt plugs was a good thing either... no good is going to come of that L

Unethical behaviour

Every once in a while the best laid plans go to hell. They do not pass go, they do not get $200 and they sure as hell do not make for good relationships. They do however, illustrate why one does not enjoy playing games of any kind. There is a distressing tendency for them to mimic real life... which is rather the point of many of them.

For months now He has lived, eaten and breathed the next RPG campaign. And so has one small and often monumentally disinterested slave. There has been research, YouTube videos, TV shows, lectures, in depth discussions (often rather one sided events might one add) and books left in strategic places where one might find them. In short He has run complete brainwashing and immersion sessions on one's good self. It's how He learns and works out bugs, by teaching others K

So we are all set for the game. We ran a short game last week and all was well, except that there were a few bugs to iron out and as He was planning on running this as a long game... read that as you know... getting married, having children and so on until death... there needed to be back stories for the characters. So we fronted up to do that very tweaking and it all went south.

Our vanillas decided to completely change their characters; so there went one's own secondary character. Their new characters are completely out of keeping with the game... well his is OK, hers is a complete nightmare. To the extent that one is looking at it and wondering why one's own character would even hang out with her, let alone been seen in public. And what is causing this dilemma you may be wondering? Ah well He wanted to run a heroic game.

She is completely incapable of being a hero. It has happened before. Like the time when she insisted that her musketeer was gay 'cos she wasn't allowed to be a female character.  This time round her scandal (an intrinsic part of the game) is something that is completely unethical, in spite of Him pointing out repeatedly that she is one of the good guys.

He doesn't want to run a dark campaign. To quote his good self there is a reason why I read Avengers not Batman. In fact He is quietly ropable after spending months on this game. Now you may be thinking that this will be nothing on the scale of things. Let one show you the crystal ball...

One of them will have to give in...

If it is her (unlikely) then she will sulk the entire time and it will not be a long game. Her mate will be caught between supporting his friend and supporting his pregnant partner... yeah we know how that is going to work out.

If He gives in (unlikely) then one is going to be stuck with him...

Mutters yeah this is going to be fun... where the hell is the slave protection society when you need them?

Chivalry...

Australian style

Sitting at the bus stop waiting for the bus that would take one home... not fast enough might one add... the lungs started to do their cleansing ritual. That is to say they tried to leave the body forcibly. Sitting next to me was a mountain of a man who turned and said they don't care who they upset do they? It was then that one realised why the lungs were playing merry hell. Someone further down the line had lit up.

As a small side bar in this country smoking is banned in public places. In fact it is banned in any sheltered area. These days smokers are expected to stand in the middle of the road to ply their craft if they are going to be compliant with the distance required from awnings and the like. Needless to say most are true to their ancestors and thumb their nose at the legislation unless someone is around to enforce it. As yet we do not have bus stop monitors.

Nodding weakly one agreed with this huge man. He glanced at one again taking in the abject state as the cough persisted. The coughing is that bad when it starts up. Turning the other way he said oi! You! Smoker! The other man's head lifted up like a bird dogs. Move further away. Your smoke is bothering people. The much smaller man looked at this would be knight, who looked as rough as guts as the locals are wont to do, and calculated his body mass before moving swiftly and without comment as far away as he could

Heart you so hard one croaked out between coughs. The man beamed with pleasure. And they say chivalry is dead. It can be found in the most unexpected places sometimes.

In unrelated ponderings

Weird shit turns up in our inbox all the time, but some of it makes you wonder what is going on in people's heads. One such offering is a loyalty programme for a department store. It is an email to inform one small slave to fashion that not only has one earned a reward card, but that one is being upgraded to a new silver loyalty card to "truly reflect this account status". For years they just sent you a sticker that you stuck on your card.

Now being of cynical persuasion one can't help but look at this missive and reflect that not only has one has obviously spent way too much money there during this weight loss thing, but that one has been systematically spending too much money there for some time. Even with only buying sale items this last year one has still hit their benchmark for spending. Mind you there is certain mirth in wondering what happens if one doesn't make that grade next time. There is this dancing vision of them trying to confiscate the card next time it is handed over...

Really though what amuses one the most is the idea the damn thing is meant to mean something. That it is meant to mean enough that one is invested in keeping that piece of plastic and will do anything, read spend a prerequisite sum, to keep it. There is this implicit idea in their thinking that such an item has some sort of prestige. And that the lucky recipient will become emotionally invested in its ownership.

The last time one looked the department store wasn't that prestigious. In fact it has declined over the years to become known for the impossibility of finding service due to its skeleton staffing policy. Worst of all, out in the real world and behind the scenes, it has garnered a nasty reputation for being one of the worst employers of all the big boys. And given some of the stunts those guys have collectively pulled over the years, that is something of an achievement... er... not the good kind might one hasten to add.

Sighs maybe it is time to rethink one's habits as a consumer K

Humour down the hole

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