January  18,  2004 (again!)

      i made number one Slut! 

      i decided to check the Cunning Linguist ring again, and found myself at number 1.  When our friend HS said i just wanted to be number one slut, we all had a good chuckle.   And i am so not there because of the slutness - i really enjoy the thoughts of so many, and am in the middle of formatting a page of links to the people i've been reading about.   But saying it's for the slutness is fun - baby let's rock!

      So i asked Himself's daughter if she'd like to make a few extra dollars and help me sort my clothes out - yet again.  She agreed - the child knows when easy money is available and she's smart!  So after much stalling on my part, she managed to push me into getting it done.

      Well, not before i pierced her upper ear.  But she handled that well.

      Anyway - off we go to organize my clothes.  And we had a great time doing it.  She is a very tactful child; the clothes she found particularly ugly less appealing she tossed in a pile and then reminded me that there are a lot of people who can't afford new clothes and shouldn't i be giving to charity?  Alrighty then.

      It all progressed nicely until i heard her ask; "what's this?"  And she was holding up my black garter belt.  Innocent enough, i thought to myself.  i explained what it was, and she even wrapped it around her size 0 body and got the idea.  "Sort of a bra, for the lower body;" she said.  Okay.

       i went back to sorting.  She went back to folding.  i heard another "what's this???"  And the next 20 minutes are spent watching her try on a leather bustier, and a few other corsets.  Her father aka Himself, is happily snoring through all of this.  i go back to sorting clothes.

      "Uhhhhhhhhh huhhhh"; i hear.  This is not a good sound.  i go investigate and she's holding up metal cuffs tied together with good sound rope.  Shit.  

      "And WHAT is this?"  

      Sigh.  Himself is still not waking up.

      "Props" i say.

      "What kind of props?  These look like handcuffs to me!"

      Sigh.

      "Well..." i respond.  "You know i was in that biker thing for a lot of years ... (i'm watching her try to put them on her wrists now) and well. .. you know... "

      "These don't fit ... nobody could wear these things!"  She's giving up in disgust.  "Exactly"; i'm quickly chiming in.  "... they are just props right?"  (Meanwhile i KNOW these things fit MY wrists and i'm wondering just how much of the osteoporosis has kicked in.)

      She eventually chalks me and the cuffs up as totally weird and o-my-gawd you really were a biker chick and that's weird too.  And she drops the cuffs somewhere.  Later i try to find the words to ask where she put them and she says; "what?  your sex toys?  the handcuffs?"  And she's laughing all the while.  i'm desperately trying to maintain my poker face.  Doing it, but just barely.

      If someone tells you kids are cruel - believe them.     

    “Have no fear of perfection - you'll never reach it.”
       --Salvador Dali           

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