Squeaky's Very Bad Day.

Cookie and I have three cars.

There's the GoKart, my little grey sporty looking thing. I love it. It's adorable. And uninsured.

There's my Mom's Evilnox. It's insured because my mom wants to keep it on the road, but since she has no place to park it at her new condo it lives at my house. In return for my car babysitting skills (easiest babysitting job ever) I get to drive it around.

And then there's the Trusty Buick. That's Cookie's car. It's been having heater issues, but it's cool because the heat blows just fine on the highest setting, even if the lower settings blow no heat at all.

We often joke about how if something goes wrong with the Buick we don't have to worry because of our stable of back-up cars, just waiting to spring into action.

So... recently we've been experiencing a bit of a cold snap. Last Friday when I tried to start the Evilnox (after digging it out of a two foot deep snow drift), it didn't start. Which sucked, but it's not the end of the world. We figured that we'd get around to jumping it eventually when the temperature ventured back into the above zero range.

Now, due to the non-starting car and the uninsured car and our lack of laundry-doing facilities at home, Cookie ran out of clothes. Also not a big deal. On Thursday we loaded the laundry into the Buick and set off.

The plan was: I drop him at work, go do laundry, run some errands, and eventually pick him up when his shift ended.

What actually happened: On the coldest damn day of the year (4 above, wind chill hovering in the negative teens), we set off. Deciding that we were hungry and in need of nibbles, we stopped to grab a burger at Wendy's.

I turned down the heat because it's loud and when I worked fast food I hated trying to decipher what someone was ordering when I couldn't hear them over their heater/music/screaming kids... I was being thoughtful.

And then, the heat didn't turn back on.

Longest, coldest drive ever. 30 minutes to Cookie's work and 40 minutes home.

After defrosting my feet/hands/face I figured that I'd finally go and jump the Evilnox. I dig out the two foot drift in front of the car, shovel off the hood, stick my hand in there to release the latch... And nothing. The latch won't move. The hood stays firmly shut. Cookie laughs via text at my weak girl fingers.

I go back inside, thaw out once more, and listen to Cookie's ideas about What Is Wrong With The Car. He thinks it's the Blower Motor Resistor and can I go pick one up? Sure I can.

And hey, maybe it's this HVAC relay thing, so how about I get one of those as well?

So I head uptown (which is actually, oddly, south of us), nearly freeze to death, acquire the parts, and head home.

Being slightly car-savvy, I replaced the relay thingy with ease. I was hoping that would do the trick... It didn't. So I stand there, looking at the car, at the ice on my driveway, all while trying to keep my back to the wind... How the hell am I supposed to replace this other part without getting frostbite?

My mom has a garage! Yay, mom! It'll be ass cold, but at least there won't be any wind.

More super-cold driving and I've got the Buick tucked up snug as a bug in a rug. The garage was much smaller than I remember it being. Thankfully, with the driver's side of the car right up against the wall I can open the passenger side door all the way- Which I need to do because this stupid Blower Motor Resistor is up under the dash on that side.

More good news! Because it was laundry day and all the dirty laundry is in the car I don't have to actually sit on the concrete floor, though my towels may never fully recover.

I'm thinking this should be easy. I watched a few youtube videos, I found a blog with pictures, I'm not totally inept... Then I encountered The Christmas Tree Peg Things From Hell.

Cookie says it looks like a butt plug from hell.

I'm pretty sure there is a special place in hell reserved for whoever decided to use those things instead of a nice, easy to remove screw. You can't just pull them out and I guess there's some special tool to remove them... But lacking the tool I used brute strength and Hulk style rage to remove them. I also managed to bash my head into the dash in the process. Ow.

Right. Kick thingy off, I cram myself into the foot well to find the BMR, and there it is right where the video and blog said it would be... Waaaaaaaay back, behind the blower fan, right up against the firewall in a place where only a professional contortionist can reach it.  A very skinny professional contortionist with hands the size of baby starfish.

I got one of the three screws off using the ratchet thing that Cookie had conveniently left in the trunk of his car and was insanely, painfully cold on my poor bare fingers.

The next step was "Use a screwdriver to unclip wires from BMR and from Blower fan..." It didn't happen. I tried to make it happen for an hour, but the BMR hated my guts and the feeling was entirely mutual.

By this time it was about 9, the temperature was hovering somewhere around 2 below, and there's only so much that a girl can take. When my mom got home I begged to use her car to pick up Cookie from work. My mom loves me so she agreed... But I had to bring the car back because she had stuff to do Friday. Mom doesn't love me that much.

So- Pick up Cookie, go back to mom's, pick up Buick... And now it's 8 below and as soon as we start breathing the Buick starts fogging up and freezing over. So Cookie and I drive home with the windows down.

We thaw out at home for an hour or so and then he tries to open the Evilnox's hood... No doing. So much for my weak girl fingers.

I try to start the GoKart, the vehicle of last resort. No surprise, he's not playing ball. He's also nearly out of gas (damn white trash neighbors keep siphoning my gas), so even if we did get him started he wouldn't run long enough to get to the gas station.

Nothing else left to do, I wrap Cookie up in a bunch of blankies and he somehow, miraculously, gets all the clips unclipped from the BMR only to find out that the final two screw on the damn thing are BEHIND THE FIREWALL.

Says I, "Dude. Just plug the new one in and let it dangle. Who cares? It's effing cold (negative 14 says my phone with a wind chill of -30), I can't feel my anything, and you need heat to drive to work."

So he does and it works and we celebrated by driving the now-warm car up to McSlavelabor for a few burgers.

I did not turn the heat down when we ordered.

50 Shades of Grey: The Movie (where I waffle about, all indecisive)

I've been having this back and forth in my head for a while:
"We should go see that stupid movie."
"But it's going to suck."
"Yeah, but at least it'll give us something to write about..."
"But then we'll line that idiot author's pockets with even more cash. We don't want to do that."
"I know... But what self respecting, snarky writer would miss out on an opportunity like this? It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel."

Like that, for months.
In the end, I just can't make myself do it, I don't think. I've no problem sitting through really rancid movies, I've seen enough stinkers to know that about myself... But something rubs me the wrong way about paying cash to see something that pretty much goes against everything I try to express the importance of here. Consent, safety, healthy-happy relationships, "abuse is bad"... You know. Stuff like that.

So today I settled for watching the rating on rotten tomatoes (to my everlasting delight it started out low and then just got lower and lower as the evening passed. Currently it's at 27% approval rating on the Tomatometer ).

When I got home from doing Very Important Stuff and Things I started reading the actual reviews.

John Serba who writes for Mlive.com said- "Last time I checked, the desire to fast-forward through the boring stuff to get to the good stuff was a key characteristic of two specific genres: porn and ninja movies" and "Every line of dialog is loaded. Loaded like a diaper." Something stinks and I don't think it's your toddler...

Eric D. Snider from GeekNation pondered the future of the franchise in his witty, well-written review- "Presumably the sequels will explore forbidden taboos like "character development" and "plot." 50SoG makes sex more boring than you thought possible.

James Berardinelli of ReelViews opened his review with the line "Who would have imagined that a movie about sex could be so boring?" And drove that point home with "For most movies, a one or two sentence synopsis does a disservice - not so for Fifty Shades of Grey, which is so plot-deficient that its essence can be captured easily in a 140-character tweet: Shy college girl meets kinky rich dude who attempts to manipulate her into becoming a submissive to his dominant." 140 characters might be a bit generous.

Bill Clark (From The Balcony) called 50SoG "be the first film in history made specifically for the purposes of hate-watching." You'll love to hate me!

And I have to agree- I fully intend to hate the holy hell out of the movie just as soon as it's available on Netflix. I'm looking forward to that, at least.

Sadly, what I haven't seen yet are any reviews from the kink "community." You'd think that with a movie this big that portrays WIITWD on the big screen someone would have written something about it already... But then, maybe they're like me and have no desire to give EL James another, bigger, payday or to suffer through something else that slaughters the entire concept of healthy, happy kink.

Sigh.

So maybe I should go see it after all.

Goodness knows, I do enjoy a good snark, and getting annoyed by stupid shit is one of my favorite pass-time activities... And if I'm recalling correctly, Cookie's got two free movie passes in his wallet.

We shall see. Especially considering that tomorrow is VD and anything remotely couple-friendly is going to be a hot mess of jam-packed PDA consumer frenzy. Dunno if I'm that much of a masochist.

Edit to add:
I found this article by Salon that critiqued the BDSM in the movie, so maybe I can save myself a headache- The movie is even worse than the book.

How To Be A Kitty Cat

Folks ask for advice all the time about how to do specific activities. Most of the time it's rather understandable- If you've never tied someone up you might be curious about how to do that activity safely, and the interwebz (and the folks using the interwebz) can be a great tool for learning how to do that new activity that you're interested in... But sometimes, it backfires.

Take this recent thread for example that I found in Novices & Newbies on Fet:

My master, wants me to be more like a kitty cat. This is the first time I am doing this. I HATE WHEN PEOPLE CONTROL ME!!! (maybe). Want are somethings to help me turn him on, and what are something he could do to be more of a master to a little tiny kitty like me. I just want to make sure my master is pleased :). So help a kitty out MEOW!!!.
O am wearing a cute outfit!!!! want can i do to seem sexier in it?

The first few respondents gave the usual advise, "Ask him what he thinks being more like a kitty cat means" and "Try joining a group for cat play" but when someone mined the poor guy's profile (that the girlfriend made for him) and learned he was vanilla (his words) and that he had absolutely no interest in kinky play... Folks decided to have fun with the thread.

And because the idea of a human being doing any (or even better, all) of the advise given on how to be a cat amused me and made me giggle, I decided to share.

How To Be A Kitty Cat

by: The Members of Novices & Newbies

Punch him in his full bladder a few hours after he's fallen asleep. When he wakes up, demand cereal.

When you want his attention, walk away from him and roll around on the floor looking adorable. When he takes the bait, you have two options:
1) Run.
2) Bite him.

Stare at him for long periods of time without blinking.

When you hear crinkly paper, get excited.

When you hear plastic bags, run and hide. When he finds you, say (very loudly) WTF IS WRONG WITH YOUUUUU.

If it's warm, sit on it.

Boxes. There's nothing you can't do with a box.

When receiving gifts, throw away the gift and be super happy about the wrapping (and/or box) that it came in.

If you're unaltered, howl like a banshee during your ovulation cycle. Make sure to walk funny and present your ass at every opportunity.

Tell him you're soooo sooo hungry and you can't wait another MINUTE without a treat. When you have the treat in front of you, let him know you've changed your mind - but you're glad he knows how to follow instructions.

When he gets up from a chair, run over and sleep in his spot.

Sleep on the bed taking up as much room as possible.

When he is almost asleep climb on his pillow above his head, head-butt him over and over until he pets you... Then bite him... Then make mud pies in his scalp, roll yourself in his hair, and don't move an inch.

Get into the catnip, then stare glassy eyed at a wall for 3 straight hours.

Vow to finally catch that abominable red dot.

Did anyone cover the entire being a creeper while the human uses the facilities?
Tip: if you get locked out of the bathroom (and thus can't creep) sharpen your nails on the door until it opens.

Stick your paws/fingers under the door, or even better, get your nose down there and try to peek under the door while mewing pitifully since the occupant must have "drownededed". When the door opens, turn away quickly and ignore said occupant.

Don't forget to watch the water go down the toilet when he flushes, and bat at his boxer/briefs when he is using the facilities.

 Bat at the door to get in any room. When he lets you in, wait until he has sat back down and has started doing what he had been doing before then bat and meow at the door to get out.

 If he has fish, watch them and try to get them out of the tank.

When he's in bed, sleeping, attack his feet whenever he moves them.

Perch atop tall furniture/appliances and whap his head whenever he walks by.

For absolutely no reason run wildly from one end of the house to the other multiple times, then abruptly stop and begin licking your parts.

Stalk small insects when they enter your domain. Meow piteously when you can't catch them.

Pace back and forth on the couch, making sure to step on his groin each time you pass him.

If he tries to eat something, stick your hand in it. If he tries to drink something, knock the drink onto the floor.

Knock everything onto the floor, then kill it.

Remember one sip out of your water (or in my case wine) glass means it's empty and needs to be refilled immediately. Same goes for the food.

Look in the pantry and whatever there is the most of you refuse to eat it, even if it was your absolutely favorite food last week.

Begin using a litter box- But you cannot go IN the litter box.Paw around in it and then squat beside it to do your business. Or in the bathtub.

Bring a live mouse to the door and insist on dropping it in his lap.

Soon as he puts anything in his lap, like a keyboard or a book, you must immediately climb across his lap and lie in the middle of it so he cannot work with whatever it is that has suddenly taken up that very valuable real estate.

Hiss at him and run away and hide under the bed when he comes near you with nail clippers.

Play "hockey" with hard candies in the tiled hallway at 2am. Whack that fucker hard as you can into the baseboard repeatedly for as many ricochet shots as you can get with a single swipe.

Get talons and scratch the fuck out of the furniture.

Trip him up when he's in the kitchen.

Attack things on the TV.

Stick your bum in his face when he's trying to watch TV.

Whenever he pays attention to something other than you (like talk on the phone or read a book/the net) get in his face and start caterwauling.

Noisily investigate the entire house at 2am.

Vomit in his car on road trips.

Pick the coldest, snowiest night and yowl at the door until he opens it. Stand there until he tries to push you out with his foot. Then run back into the house. Repeat five times until he bodily picks you up to toss you out. Scratch his face while screeching until he drops you. Then run hide under the bed for two days.

If he isn't pleased with any of the above mentioned behaviors, and shows his disapproval - wait until he least expects it and then leave something disgusting in his shoes.

The Daily Flogger

http://www.thedailyflogger.com/

See that link? You should click on it and read the stuff these folks write. Not because it's all Supr Srs Bisness, but because it's funny, and I think the Kinkyverse could use a good dose of humor once in a while.

And I'm afraid that's all I've got for today... Unless anybody wants to hear about Hol's mysterious toenail malady? Anybody? No? I didn't think so.

A True Submissive...

I have a terrible confession to make.
Seriously, it's pretty awful.
It's so awful that you'll all probably throw virtual rocks at me and drive me from the Kinkyverse and I will become a sad outcast wandering the Vanilla cosmos alone...

I am not a True Submissive (tm).
I know, I know. Here I am claiming to be a submissive and writing this blog and I'm not even true. I'm some sort of counterfeit submissive who pales in comparison to the real thing. A knock-off. Faux.

I tried to deny the truth of the matter for a long time, but mounting evidence to the contrary makes the charade impossible to continue. I cannot live a lie any more, I am (apparently)... Not True.

Gasp!

I have to come clean, and in an effort to do so I will list my shameful faux submissive sins (in no particular order).

 

Squeaky's Terrible-Horrible List of Faux Submissive Sins:

1. I am not a natural submissive.
I wasn't born knowing the 128 Slave Rules, the Positions a True sub should instinctually assume, and my first words were not "Yes, Sir." Right off the bat I failed to be true. My own mother confirms this as fact by saying that I never begged for my bottle, I demanded it in a very non-submissive sort of way. Usually with angry howls and a glare. She says I was a contrary child.

2. I don't enjoy service.
Everybody knows that True Subs love serving people. Their sole purpose in life is making others happy. I knew my best friend was a True Sub when we went out to dinner and she felt compelled to begin waiting tables in order to speed up service and make the other diners happy. It wouldn't have been that bad if she hadn't done it while kneeling.

3. There is stuff I just won't do, no matter how happy it'll make my Domly One.
A true sub doesn't have limits because they trust their Dom and their Dom's happiness is the very most important thing to them ever. Domly doesn't want to eat yet? They'll wait dinner, even if the children are starving. Domly wants butt sex? Despite that recent anal fissure and bout of Ring Of Fire Diarrhea, they'll comply. A true sub will do the shit I won't which is a blatant sign of my untrueness.

4. Altruism has never held any appeal to me.
To be a true sub you really have to enjoy being a altruistic. You have to be happy serving with no positive feedback because True Subs don't need praise or rewards for a job well done. Their Dom's happiness is reward enough and if it isn't and they're unhappy then they're not really true. I personally like being told when I do something well. I like positive reinforcement. I like getting rewards... I'm so not true.

5. My Domly isn't the only thing I think of.
A true sub thinks of their Dom at all times, "The first thing to enter a submissive's mind when they wake is "what can i do to help Him/Her today" and the last thing through their minds when they go to sleep is the joy that they have served well." Not to mention at all times in between, too. True subs never think of themselves, ever. And as part of this confession I have to admit that I spend a great deal of time thinking about things other than Cookie. Especially first thing in the morning. Then I'm usually wondering if I'm out of Diet Dew or not.

6. I don't like pain.
"True submission means going above and beyond...giving until it hurts"... Right there- Failure.

7. Endless lists of rules and regulations don't send me into a frenzy of submissive glee.
It seems that all the True Subs have insanely long lists of rules (that they undoubtedly memorized within 13 minutes of first reading it), and they all seem to post these endless lists on their blogs to show off how their trueness can be directly correlated to the length of the rule list. Meanwhile, sad faker that I am, I only have one rule: Cookie is the Boss.

8. I don't post those "Guidelines for Subs" things that are so popular with the True Subs.
Nor have I posted and raved about the Submissives Creed, the 9 Levels of Submission, or any of the other popular writings about what makes a True Submissive. That in itself is a pretty good indicator of how not true I am. In my defense I did take that BDSM quiz... But then I laughed at the result. Oops.

9. I don't have "slavish tendencies."
I don't even know what that means. What the hell are slavish tendencies? True Subs are supposed to have them and I have no idea what they are... Just more proof that I'm not true because if I was then I would know what slavish tendencies are. I'd have been born knowing, I bet. 

10. I make mock of anything that dictates what a True Submissive is.
I just can't seem to help myself because it's so silly. It's about as silly as saying "This is what makes a True Human" and then giving a list of things that only some humans like to do... Me? I think a True Human is human. I think a True Submissive submits. That's it. There's not list, no guidelines, nothing that will make some people feel superior and others feel inferior.

A True Sub submits.
That's it. If you submit, you're a True Submissive- All the other shit is just stage dressing.

I can has Cheeseburger?

I adore cheeseburgers.

I like how simple they are but how much complexity you can add to them- From the way you cook them, to the buns you put them on, to the toppings you give them. There's eleventy-bajillion ways to make a cheeseburger (at least). And like most Americans (the cheeseburger-loving sort anyways) I've had my quest to find the epic burger. I've developed my cheeseburger preferences.

What makes my perfect cheeseburger?

It has to start with Confer's meat (Their business slogan is "Home killed meats"), they're a local mom and pop operation and I've yet to find better burger meat anywhere.

Then, I fire up the Webber. One of the old school black ones that uses charcoal briquettes (Match Light being my briquette of choice here). It can't be a gas grill and it can't be a pan, a charcoal fire is the way to go. I cook my burgers medium, I like a bit of pink in the center.

I get my buns from Kroger's Deli. I like the oniony ones for their flavor, and they're big so you can slap a ton of shit on them without having a dreaded burger blow-out.

Some real Mayo, a dab of French's Mustard. A honking huge slice of beefsteak tomato, some portabella mushroom, swiss cheese, bacon, and fried onions... Om Nom Nom!

That is the way to happy burger heaven. That's my One True Cheeseburger.

And now I bet someone out there is reading this and screaming at their computer screen, "Squeaky! What are you thinking!? A true burger has raw Vidalia onions on it! It has American cheese! A whole wheat bun is the way to go! And charcoal *GASP!* True burgers are cooked over a gas flame!"

Yep. Someone out there is having palpitations. There may even be some tachycardia involved and a bit of mouth frothing.

Why? Because my cheeseburger truth, for some illogical reason, threatens their cheeseburger truth. There mere idea that someone out there doesn't find their True Cheeseburger Way to be the Only Right Way makes them feel insecure, unsettled, and all mouth frothy. Personally, I don't get it, and I think it's silly, but that's the way it is.

That's the way BDSM is too. BDSM is like those eleventy-bajillion cheeseburgers. Simple and complex all at the same time, and like the cheeseburger there's no One True Way to do it (even if some frothy mouthed folks think there is). It's all about preference. You might like olives on your cheeseburger while I think olives are a salty tool of the devil designed to disgust me and ruin other-wise tasty food stuffs. I might like being a mouthy, difficult submissive while you think subs like me are a tool of the devil sent to thwart your Dominess.

neither of us are right, and neither of us are wrong- Not in a general sense anyways. We're right for ourselves even if we're wrong for each other, but that each other bit doesn't matter unless we're actually wanting to play. Then we'd find ourselves incompatible, but still not wrong. Just... Incompatible.

So, you know, maybe it would be helpful for folks to think about BDSM the same way we think abut cheeseburgers. None of us really expect everybody in the universe to enjoy their cheeseburgers the same way we do, right? And we're pretty unlikely to get all frothy mouthed at the idea that someone else enjoys their cheeseburger in a different way, yeah? I mean, that would just be beyond silly to get worked up over something so inconsequential.

My BDSMburger is way different from yours, and that's A-OK. It's just a burger, after all.

(Today I ate a bag of coconut M&Ms and had 5 cans of Diet Dew. Writing while hopped up on that much sugar and caffeine might not have been the best idea I've ever had, yo)

How To Train Your Dominant

There's so much bunk floating around on how s-types "need" training so, you know, we can be "good" s-types. But the thing I never see is the fact that Domlies don't spring fully formed and perfect into the BDSM world and perhaps they could benefit from some training as well. Cause the way it stands now, any Twit can go buy himself a flogger and proclaim "I Am DOMLY!" and the submissive trolls (thanks for that sweetcheeks) will fall over themselves to reinforce that idea. So, without further ado I give you:

Squeaky's Handy Dandy Guide to Dominant Training
(In no specific order what-so-ever)

1. Buying a flogger and a set of furry handcuffs does not make you a Dominant. It makes you a guy with a flogger and a set of furry cuffs who doesn't have a clue.
In order to get a clue you need to learn about stuff, like this: Handcuffs, even furry ones, suck balls. They're made for the police to restrain criminals, not for Domlies to use as a bondage implement. Why? Because they cause damage. They hurt (and not in a good way). They're more likely to cause nerve damage than leather cuffs or rope. So put them back in your toy box and buy a nice set of leather cuffs (preferably with rolled edges) or go out and buy one of The Knotty Boy's Books- They're EXCELLENT.

In fact, there are a bunch of decent books about Dominance out there. Go pick up a few (the folks at Barnes & Noble don't give a damn about what you're buying, so don't even try to use that as an excuse), join a few groups geared towards novices and D-types. LEARN SOMETHING.

2. Giving yourself a title does not make you a Dominant.
Well, I suppose it does in a way, but not in the way you're thinking it does. It doesn't make you God's gift to the s-types, it doesn't give you any rights over them, and it doesn't give you an excuse to act like a prick. It sure as hell doesn't mean that you can get in our s-typey pants just because you want to.
All it does is make you A dominant, which means jack to everybody except the submissive trolls and they're not who you should be taking pointers from. And while you're A dominant, you don't have any authority over anybody but yourself. You want some real authority, find yourself a nice s-type that you get along with well and then you can be her Dominant.

3. Dominant does not equal Jerk, Misogynist, Asshole, etc.
Acting like you were raised in a barn is a sure way to NOT impress the ladies. And yeah, some of us s-types might like our Dominants to be bossier than what we'd put up with from a vanilla guy- But they're not bossy to the point of being complete social rejects. D-types DO say thank you on occasion. They have been known to hold coats, doors, and pull out chairs. They express appreciation and acknowledge a job well done. In short: Dominants can, and often do, have nice manners and display courtesy.
Quite a few people LIKE a person who can do the pretty. Some don't- Some really get off on the misogynistic asshole vibe... But until you know who's who it's a good bet that you'll catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

4. Being a Dominant doesn't guarantee you shit.
If you think it does you've been hanging around the submissive trolls for too long.
You are not entitled to any of these things from any s-type other than the one(s) who consent to be yours:
* Obedience
* Sexy Time Play
* Any Play
* Being referred to with your preferred title
* Sexy pics and/or videos
* ANYTHING someone doesn't feel like giving you.
(Do you see a pattern there?)

5. TRUE and REAL are BS terms.
There is not "real" and there is no "true." Those are terms used by people who want to manipulate someone by playing on their insecurity, or who are insecure themselves.
There is compatible and there is incompatible.
When you encounter some s-type who doesn't express a great deal of joy at doing whatever you want her to do because she has no interest in that or you, that's not the time for you to throw a hissy fit and say "You're not a true sub!" That's the time for you to be an adult and say, "OK, well I guess we're incompatible."

6. Learn to control yourself.
D/s, M/s, whatever- It's not ALL about controlling someone else, it's also about self control. And if you can't control yourself, how can you expect to control someone else?
-The same applies for s-types: If you can't control yourself, what makes you think someone else will be able to?

7. Real Life seldom resembles Porn.
Pron is written or produced with one goal in mind- To get your rocks off. That s-type who just loves being gang-banged by 50 linebackers? The s-type who can turn herself into a human pretzel and stay that way for hours? The one who likes a fist in every orifice? The ones who do the really freaky-deaky shit without batting an eyelid and even seem to be enjoying it?

Yeah... They're getting paid for that.

The rest of us? You might be able to find someone into all that, I'm sure she exists some where out there, but expecting all of us s-types to do the stuff you watched on Super Slutty Submissive Skankbots last night, or expecting it from a baby seal? Dude, you need to get a better grip on reality.

We don't all like the same stuff, we won't all do the same things, and expecting that we will is about as logical as thinking Spock would enjoy watching The Bachelor. And that's why it pays to actually TALK to us s-types before going all Dom-Fu on our asses. Figure out if we like the same things you like (compatibility), figure out if we're interested in the same kind of dynamic you are (more compatibility), figure out if our dream is a kinky 50's Leave It To Beaver episode with 2.5 kids and a house in the 'burbs or a Fully Equipped Dungeon complete with Uber Dungeony Over-Lord where talking isn't allowed and slithering like a snake is the only approved form of locomotion...


8. I'm so full of shit.
If a megalomaniac like me can say that, then so can you.

But seriously, a lot of that stuff up there^^^ Doesn't impress the s-types, it pisses them off. And if you piss them off they're not going to want anything to do with you. So pay attention. Oh, and that cock-shot avatar you're rocking? Ditch that. We've all seen weenies before, yours isn't anything special unless we're fond of it's owner.

The Most Massive Missve Fail Ever.

I'm jumping up and down with snarky glee. I'm pretty sure someone CTRL+C'd this because I saw it on Fet the other day, but it landed in my inbox this evening and the potential for a verbal reaming is so high that I had to share the joy. So now, for your edification and amusement, I present you with The Most Massive Missive Fail EVAR.

Your Master loves you, and is proud to have you as a Slave.
Well, he does love me and he is proud of me but you got our titles wrong- I'm a submissive and he's my Domly One. But if you'd read my profile you'd have known that. You'd also have known that I thrive on snarking about crap like this, it just makes my day. But hey, thanks for deciding that I looked like a likely recipient for this inane twaddle, I guess it's sort-of-but-not-really-flattering.

Swearing service to your Master carries with it the following rules which MUST be adhered to. Any deviation from, or violation of, these rules will be dealt with strictly and without question or discussion.
Without question or discussion? Lemme guess, you're not a real life player, right? You like the interweb fantasy thing? Cause guess what pal? That right there is a honking huge red flag. Some douche who'd rather inflict punishment than talk and try to fix the issue isn't worth the electricity it takes to power his computer so he can pass along this drivel.

=====

Your behavior reflects on your Master's reputation, therefore you are to conduct yourself appropriately both in AND out of his presence.
Good thing my Domly thinks that my snark, cussing, and other various forms of unpleasantry are appropriate then, otherwise he'd be SOL. I am who I am and nobody gets to dictate otherwise to me.

Any bracelet or necklace you may be presented with must be worn AT ALL TIMES. If you MUST remove it in special circumstances (such as in the shower, around kids, etc) the moment you are done with that activity, you MUST return it to your wrist/neck.
Which one is it? AT ALL TIMES or not, cause you can't have it both ways, or are you purposefully being wishy-washy so you can have some trumped-up excuse to execute one of those discussion-free punishments you seem so fond of?

You are only to address your Master as “Master”. Your title has been chosen as Lovebug.
Ah-hahahahahahahahahaha *gasp* Hahahahahahahahaha.
Sorry guy, but unlike you, a person who obviously lives in his own little wank fueled fantasy land, I exist in the real world. Even if Cookie did have some desire to be called "Master" it would be a cold day in hell before I used that title in front of my kids, family, friends, or the general public. And "lovebug?" Seriously? You don't even care about the submissive you're looking for if you think that she's going to want some random, generic term of endearment with no connection to her applied to her.

Orders from your Master are to be carried out immediately. If you do not obey the order you will be punished for such neglect.
And you'd be on the receiving end of all that neat-o self defense stuff Uncle Sam taught me if you tried to pull that shit. Again, this is real life, D/s sometimes isn't the priority. Kids come before kink, work comes before kink, LOTS of things come before kink- And unless you want to pay for a nanny, pay to keep me in a lifestyle I am accustomed to, and somehow magically disappear anything that might bump you from my to do list (or any submissive's to do list) good luck with that.

At times you will be charged with a “task” which will be accompanied by terms of completion. (for example a time frame or set of terms required for completion) These are also to be carried out respectfully.
Again with the absence of reality business... Honestly, get off the internet and work on getting a clue. This isn't some online fantasy roleplaying game. We have lives and priorities that come before kink. Even those of us who are 24/7 have shit that sometimes gets in the way of kink- But you wouldn't know that, would you? Kinda hard to have a clue about real life when you spend all your time in your mom's basement tugging on yourself in front of the computer.

Orders and tasks are to be verbally responded to with “Yes Master”.
Not likely. I'm much more inclined to roll my eyes, sigh in a long-suffering manner, or laugh.

Upon waking each day, you will contact your Master by any means possible... the acceptable methods are Text, IM, or Phone Call. If you have a camera phone you are to send a picture of yourself each morning after getting dressed for the day. This is to make sure that your Master approves of what you have chosen to wear. You may only choose which method to use unless otherwise ordered the night before.
Upon waking I will pee, have a ciggy, wake up the kids and get them off to school. AFTER all of that, if I think about it, I might (and I stress might) feel like texting. If I don't, you're once again SOL. And no, I will not make sure my clothes are approved, I'm a big girl, I've been dressing myself for 30 years, I know how to put together an outfit appropriate to an occasion.

Masturbation is not a restriction. You are to inform me of it's start and climax. (text or IM me when you start, and when you cum). If you forget one of the messages, you will be discplined. Exceptions to the 2nd message are interruption, or inability to cum. In those cases you are to text and explain which one happened.
Well don't you just know how to kill a mood? Nothing's sexier than destroying the spontaneity of a good wank or the after-glow with a report about it.

Punishments are at your Master's discretion. Suggested punishments are always taken into consideration, but once the punishment has been set, there shall be no further discussion. Resisting a punishment will only be answered by more stern discipline. So... It's uncool to try and discuss the root of a problem, but cool to "suggest" punishments? Boy oh boy, you're going to make some chick on second life feel very lucky one day. *scoff*

And yeah, that's it. Some unrealistic drivel that some unrealistic prat probably thought was EPIC and AWESOME because this is what all submissives like because we're interchangeable and totally not individuals.

*SNORT*

Fantasy Vs Reality

When I was a wee young Squeaky I had this really great fantasy about what a 24/7 D/s dynamic would look like. It was epic, it was awesome, and if you applied it to my life it would look something like this:

The kinky fantasy of 24/7
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a Squeaky and her most perfectly domly Domly Cookie. Their house had a lovely dungeon filled with really bitchin' sex toys and stuff. They were independantly weathy so neither of them had to work and they could play all day long. The kids were all in boarding schools so kinky play could happen All The Time. And there was an army of kink-friendly servants who saw to all the mundane vanilla crap that needed to be done on a daily basis.

Squeaky and Cookie never got sick, they never had bad days, and Cookie's beaty arm never ever got tired. Rope never bit into the wrong spot, limbs never fell asleep, and both of our story's heroes were mind readers so accidents and bad things never happened. And when they did it was totally OK because Cookie was the Dom and that's all that mattered.

It was a really great life (for Cookie) and made for really epic wank fodder (for Squeaky).

But then this thing happened (I'll call it "life") and my wank fodder awesomeness kinda evaporated and it started to look like this:

The reality of 24/7
Poor Cookie had to go to work so sometimes he was too stressed or tired to play.
The kids had this annoying habit of being around all the time and demanding attention and shit so the kinkiness had to be turned down to this really low-key sort of Leave It To Beaver thing.
Sometimes Squeaky got sick and grovelling or non-stop BJs were really low on her list of priorities.
They were sort-of broke quite often so there wasn't a dungeon or a plethora of sex toys and quite often when there was enough money for these things a car would inconvienently break down.
Quite often grocery shopping had to be done, bills needed paying, and the dog needed her tummy rubbed.
Once in a while when Cookie and Squeaky had the energy and the kids were at Grandma's they would get to play... But mostly when that happened all they wanted to do was order pizza and watch Netlix.
Sadly Cookie couldn't be Super Uber Domly all the time and poor Squeaky didn't get to be tied up and beat on a daily basis, sometimes not even on an every-other-day basis or weekly basis.
Because this is real life and real life isn't the 24/7 super-kinky nothing else exists but play and sexings and BDSM fantasy of bad erotica and porn.
Poor Cookie and Squeaky had to fit their kinky fun in when they could and try to make a dynamic that fit around the demands of everyday life.
Poor, poor Cookie and Squeaky all stuck in a world that doesn't revolve around their every kinky whim.
Such is life.

Just something to keep in mind if you're a newbie- There's a difference between fantasy where anything is possible and reality when you have to fit kink in when you have time, money, or inclination. It's not always going to be cages and canings and all the other sweet stuff and to expect anything else means you're setting yourself up for serious disapointment when life rears its demanding head.

Squeaky's Rules For Her Domly

Because everybody's posting rules and it must be the cool thing to do and I'm all about jumping on bandwagons...

1. The Domly must bathe, shower, or somehow apply soap and water to his Man Parts at least twice a week because otherwise he gets smelling kinda funky and his hair stands up all weird and weird hair + funkiness is not at all hawt.

2. The Domly may not wear socks while otherwise naked, it's creepy and all sorts of wrong. If the Domly's Man Feets are cold, he must suck it up and suffer in True Manly Silence.

3. The Domly is not allowed to pester Squeaky while she is cooking. He must remain in the living room, far away from the kitchen and Squeaky's magical kitcheny juju. Failure to do so will result in spilled soup, scorched Mac N Cheese, and cakes that fail to rise.

4. The Domly must eat food at least once a day. If he fails to remember to eat and complains that he feels "funny" Squeaky will sigh and roll her eyes and say, "Go eat something you silly Man." There is no pity for a Domly who cannot remember to put food in his head when he works at a place that makes food to put in his head.

5. When driving music choice is up to Squeaky because the Domly listens to really weird stuff that Squeaky doesn't like. This applies in both cars, rentals, and anything else Pandora can be played on. Listening to techno is grounds for a great deal of heavy sighing and eye rolling.

6. The Domly must take off his pants and do his Husband Duty at least twice a week, preferably three times. Maybe six. Failure to comply will make Squeaky bitchy and whiney and that's just no fun for anybody.

7. The Domly may not use Squeaky as a heater after he's spent time outside in the winter and his appendages are icy cold. Cold makes Squeaky flail like an epileptic ninja which is bad for the Domly's health.

8. The Domly can do whatever he wants with the toilet seat in Man Cave potty, but if he uses Squeaky's potty the seat has to be returned to the "down" position after use. Squeaky does not like falling into the toilet in the middle of the night when she's expecting the seat to be down and it's not. Failure to comply will result in grade-school pranks like saran wrap over the toilet bowl in retaliation.

9. Last time Squeaky checked the Domly's arms were not broken. If he makes a big old "I'm making something brilliant" mess, he can damn well pick up after himself and not wait 3 weeks until Squeaky gets tired of the mess and picks it up herself.

10. The Domly is in charge except when he's not. When he's not is determined by the relative humidity, the position of the moon in relation to Mars, the day of the week, ambient air temperature, how many times the dog has yurped that day, number of freckles on Squeaky's left shoulder, and the winning lottery numbers. If the sum of these things is less than 42 the Domly is boss, if the number is more than 42 Squeaky gets to run amuk. If the number is 42 then it's a sign of the zombie apocalypse and Emergency Zombie Apocalypse Rules apply.

11. All rules are subject to change at almost any time (except on Febuary 29th when leap Year Rules go into effect) and for a multitude of obscure reasons that may or may not be invented by Squeaky as an excuse to be bad. Failure to comply with and adhere to the rules will result in dire threats of heinous consequences that probably won't be carried out because Squeaky is really lazy. All rules have been read and aproved by some panel of people who are in charge of reading lists of rules and aproving them. Disagreements with the rules may be sent to: The Dead Letter Office, Post Office, Your Town and State.

12. Reading the rules implies agreement to abide by the rules.

Analogy Fail

So earlier today I was chatting with a baby seal..

In case you don't know, a baby seal is my analogy for the sort of new submissive who flops around all helpless-like, much in the way a baby seal does, just waiting to get hit over the head by a DomlyDom (except for real seals it's a club) and turned into the perfect subby (or if you're a seal, a seal coat or something).

Anyways, I was chatting with this baby seal and she was all, "I don't understand! How can I be a submissive AND be a mom! I am confused and stuff!" And because I have an affinity for analogies I tried to think of something simple that she could wrap her baby seal head around.

So I asked her to go get a hard cover book and I made the hardcover book analogy.

I said that the dust jacket (the paper that protects the actual book from damage) was like the part of a person that everybody can see or touch. Skin, hair, freckles, that's our dust jacket.

Then I moved on to strengths and weaknesses, because for some reason folks tend to think that for some reason a strong, competent, short-tempered person cannot be a strong, competent, short-tempered submissive.

I imagined the cover of the book to be made up of our strengths and weaknesses- I like to think that I'm fairly strong, mostly capable, intelligent, slightly amusing, a little too short-tempered, and maybe on occasion impatient, so those were the things that were part of my cover.

Inside the dust jacket and cover are the pages of the book.

On each page there's a word I use to describe who I am:
Mom
Best Friend
Sibling
Submissive
Daughter
Cousin
Wife
So on and so forth.

All those pages make up the book. They're all there inside the Squeaky dust jacket and the cover. I am all of these things at the same time.

And because those pages are all there inside the cover they're all equally affected by the strengths and weaknesses of that cover.

An intelligent mom is an intelligent submissive is an intelligent friend.
A snarky sibling is a snarky submissive is a snarky daughter.

And even when I might be paying more attention to one page at a given time (say the submissive page) because that page is just part of the entire book, I am still all of the things on the other pages as well. I'm still a mom, daughter, friend, sibling, etc.

So I was pretty pleased with myself. I thought I'd made a pretty good, understandable analogy. A fairly simple way to point out that a person can be more than one thing at once.

Until the baby seal said, "Does it matter if my book only has 50 pages? I couldn't find a bigger book."

*HeadDesk*

The Domly Guide to True and Complete Domliness and Stuff.

For eons it has been suspected by submissives that the DimDoms have had a super-secret book that dispenses all the knowledge that a fledgling DimDom needs to learn before he can add the much-coveted "True" and "Real" (or "Real AND True") labels to his title. In vain we searched for this hidden tome in an attempt to break the DimDom silence and more than a few brave submissives lost their marbles in the attempt to locate this manual (which is a shame because now I'll never win that cat-eye off them that I so coveted).

BUT! Just as the Subversive Submissive Stealth Squad was running out of volunteers and marbles, The Book landed in the lap of one of our operatives (really, the DimDom carrying it tripped, lost his grip on it, and it sailed across the room to land in her lap). Finally, after years and years, we can reveal the reasons that the DimDom mentality is so prevalent! So, without further ado, we at the SSSS are pleased to present our fellow submissives with the Guide to True and Complete Domliness and Stuff.

The Guide to True and Complete Domliness and Stuff
Written by: Lord High Mighty Super Uber Supreme Grand PooBah of Domliness, Master Sir Bob McAwesomepants

I welcome you, young fledgling DimDom, to the wide, wonderful world of Real and True Domly Enlightenment. In order to make your quest to find a real and true s-type I have written this guide to be your companion as you navigate the Kinkyverse. May the DimDom gods smile upon you, and may their farts always be down wind.

Lesson One: How To Be Real and True

1. You are the DimDom, you are always right and never wrong. If anybody attempts to tell you that you are wrong you should ignore them, point out how untrue/unreal they are, use baffling leaps of logic that are not at all logical to prove your point, or put your fingers in your ears and sing "LAlalalalalala" until they go away.

2. You are the only person whose opinion matters. Feel free to express yours at every opportunity while deriding anybody who has the audacity to find flaws in your Supreme Written Brain Product. Their opinions do not matter because they are not Real and/or True DimDoms.

3. You are entitled to tell everybody that you are better than they are because you earned your title from The Accredited School of DimDom Theory. You may also make up some arbitrary and false number of s-types that you have trained/owned/sold on the black market to back up your claims of superiority. Even if it's not true now, it will be eventually.

4. Everything you see or read in porn is entirely feasible and you should expect your s-type to gladly gang bang 75 line backers while making you dinner and signing over her checking account five minutes after you first meet her. She is, after all, only an s-type and her opinions do not matter because you're the DimDom and she's not.

How To Find an s-type.

1. Don't be picky. Any s-type will do as long as her identifier starts with an "S". Even "dommes" are just s-types in disguise. In fact, if it's female and has a pulse it will do. You can always trade up, s-types don't have feelings.

2. Pay no attention to that pesky "relationship status" thing many websites have. It doesn't mean anything, and when faced with your glorious DimDom self, how will any female be able to resist you? She won't. But, if she's misguided enough to try you should insult her true/realness and/or insult her D-type. s-types really dig that shit.

3. Another thing s-types cannot resist (and if they try to resist it they're dumb and wrong) is poorly written missives filled with insults and grammatical errors. The more your letter resembles text-speak, the more eager they'll be to throw themselves to the ground in front of you to grovel at your feets.
EXAMPLE: NeEL 2 me NAO!1!eleven!! IM UR lrd an MSTR! sUK my cawk drtey sluT-hore-WHOLE!
If it's at all possible to sound any more ignorant than that, you should. The s-types LOVE that shit.

4. If your chosen s-type fails to respond it is because she is so over-whelmed by your attentions that she has forgotten how to type. You should send another message right away demanding that she send you naked pictures/videos of her banging a cucumber/the numbers to her banking accounts/SSN.

5. Demand that all s-types call you by your Very Important Real and/or True title. You deserve respect because you're a DimDom.

Making Your Online Profile:

1. Your photo options should be a blank box or 749 pictures of your cock. The s-types don't need to know what you look like to be impressed by your True and/or Real DimDomliness.

2. Your profile information should either be non-existent, brief and poorly written, long and poorly written, or the length of a novel full of bullet points, big words used in the wrong places, and diatribes about how much everybody else sucks in comparison to you.

3. Never friend Dominants or other DimDoms, their jealousy will cause them to poach your harem of s-types. Only friend s-types. The more s-types you can friend, the better, because they'll be jealous of each other and will compete to please your most idiotic demands. You can even make a game of it, it will be epic.

4. Avoid joining groups where serious discussion, learning, or anything meaningful takes place. Stick to groups about how big your cock is, fuck or pass games, or meat market forums. Post in as many of these groups as possible to show what a desirable and popular guy you are. It will impress the s-types.

...Sadly, this is where the book becomes illegible due to what appears to be semen and peach Suave conditioner, but based on what we were able to salvage, it's clear that the DimDoms have indeed been operating from the same source material. With this knowledge we can more effectively battle their moronic ineptitude in our groups, forums, and favorite kinky websites.

Sincerely,
Squeaky,
Super Secret Stealth Subversive Submissive
SSSS