Collars

The podcast went wonderfully, over all.  Sir Raven was pleased, the food was good and just the right amount, and it wound up around 2am.  i kept up with the cleaning and washing, and Ro helped, so by the time the last guests left all i had to do was to put up the snack trays i had made up for them around 11pm and mop the kitchen.

Sir Raven told me to go get my mani-pedi yesterday, which is her way of acknowledging me.  She also noticed how long my nails had gotten, that i had already gone a month with the gels, and knows it hurts to wait that long.

We had a lovely long weekend of silence after the podcast, which is just what Sir Raven needed.  She is still quite sick, and i’ve had a touch of it myself.  She rested, watched her youtube videos that yap, yap, yap.  i was silent and quiet and have noticed that she approaches me for hugs and kisses when i’m that way.  Last night, she surprised me by asking me to lay down in bed with her.  i was really touched.

Today, i was invited to sit in on a second life discussion on collars.  It has been on my mind anyhow since the gathering.  i’ve moved through a lot of stages and emotions on the topic and i’ve come to some conclusions.

  1. i was angry about feeling like it was taken away, without cause or talking.  i think i had a right to feel that way, but my feeling doubled my stay in Florida over the winter, because i was not allowed to come home until i was over my anger over many issues.
  2. i felt that Sir Raven was taking a risk with us, and that she was deliberating shaming me.  At the time, it did not occur to me that she could not shame me without shaming herself and this might be the only way she had to tacitly acknowledge that she wasn’t doing her job as a Master.
  3. i don’t have to feel good about how she does something to acknowledge that she has the right to do it.  This includes the right to make mistakes, get it wrong, and still be Master.  If i want her grace for being human, then i need to provide the same grace in return.
  4. Sir Raven had to have time to get over her resentment that i was doing the work on our relationship and keeping to our agreements when she was not.
  5. i am a slave, by vocation and social status, with our without a collar.
  6. i am quite capable of letting people know that i’m owned, and who my Owner is.  i don’t need a collar to do that for me.
  7. While i have moments of sadness or anger, they pass.  No matter how precious, It is an object, and it doesn’t belong to me.  i am stronger for realizing that i don’t need anything to speak for me and that i will stand up for myself.  The collar neither makes us nor breaks us.
  8. i asked for cuffs and a dress collar for my birthday, because i enjoy wearing these items locked on by her, because they emphasize and (the cuffs) helps manifest the energy she likes to have around her.  i’d really appreciate having a collar, whether it ends up being something leather and worn occasionally or the return of the eternity collar remains to be seen.  i’d be happy either way.  i’ve given it thought since a collar kept yelling at me at BL, a nod from her Ancestors.  It is not any kind of statement about me as a person, me as a slave, to wear them.  i know that i have done my very best by her every single day.  That is more than enough.  i respect myself, my station, my worth.  i am worth respecting.
  9. We tried a bracelet to cue both of us of the kind of attention needed.  Cuffs lock, and we both need that.  Even if the collar is not returned or another one is not purchased.  In truth, i asked for her to not make a big deal out of this birthday, because we are going to a lot of events and they aren’t cheap.  i asked for what i really wanted but don’t want anything else.
  10. We reached a turning point, for me, months ago when Sir Raven made a few nasty remarks about “how i’m a great slave in the blog,” and i knelt down in front of her and asked her to show me one single page that is not true.  She sat back in slow motion, like she had just been doused in ice water, and had a lightbulb moment.  She admitted that every word was true, that i do give her my best, and that it was not fair to be angry at me for doing the work.  When i was able to stand up to my own Master and acknowledge that i was a good slave, i knew then that the collar did not define me.  When she was able to genuinely apologize, she stopped looking for reasons to be critical of me, and found instead that i’ve been here all along being the best version of myself that i can be day in and day out.  That moment was like a window had been opened wide, letting a breeze come through a hot and cramped room.

Podcast day

i’m spending my few precious moments of quiet, hiding out in the bedroom, writing.  i’m really blessed that i’m permitted to take teeny breaks back here, alone, ostensibly to smoke away from the nonsmokers but also to just move back from the livingroom full of people.

New York living has it’s drawbacks and one of them is that you have to play furniture move around for podcasts.  We have a absolutely lovely bench claimed from the New York Public Library, where they had cast it aside.  It generally sits in our foyer, but we have to move it in the livingroom for guests.  My playpen gets dismantled and moved around too.  There are floor pillows, for me, and any other slave who wants to sit on the floor.  i get to keep one bear in the livingroom but the rest of my friends have to go into our bedroom.

If Sir Raven was trying to design situations to cause me physical pain and emotional frustration, she couldn’t do better than what she does during podcast prep and days.  Inevitably, she plans a menu and demands that i wait for some items rather than go all at once and tip one of the men to use the large shopping cart and wheel it all home for me.  This means that i end up making three or four trips to stores, haul it all back, and then get more list minute reply texts to questions i had asked days previously.  Like do you want wine?

i spend hours prepping everything.  i don’t ever get a nap.  i’m in pain and can’t sleep-but at least i had meds that do work well at keeping me from feeling like i will black out in pain.  So thats a total win.

The next morning, she will insist on moving the furniture around before i’ve finished a cup of coffee or have my meds.  This results in me often sweeping around her, mopping around her, trying to get my other morning chores done while helping rearrange furniture.  Then comes the speech, which is that she wants me to focus on keeping my energy small and quiet, and to not rush to serve everyone or ask too often about what anyone may need.  She says everyone already knows i’m an excellent slave, which feels like a backhand, even though it’s entirely possible that she was being sincere.  Thats the point at which i realized i absolutely had to light candles, sit down, and stop forcing my body to work without enough medication.  Thankfully, she allowed it.  She made the fruit salad while i worked on other chores.  i was worried about her being in the heat of the kitchen being sick and menopausal.  Then i went into the kitchen to make the meatloaf and cowboy green beans and wash and put everything away.  Thanks to my hours of prep work yesterday, it took far less time.  Thank God because sweat was rolling down the back of my ass by the time i finished working.

i noticed Sir Raven had made the bed and thanked her.  She reminded me that she would help out by asking guests what they wanted to drink so i didn’t have to try and track how much time may have elapsed between asking and could just focus on serving.  i reminded her that she will often say things like “Go get Master so-and-so a drink, girl” and i’m standing there like a total dumb ass, because i have no clue what they want to drink.  i point out though that we have gotten good at working as a team, and she responded that we are still growing.  i tell her i feel like every time i say something positive about us, she makes a remark in a cynical tone.  And it hurts.  That i need her to say something positive.  In proof that we actually have grown, we both calmly accept each others feelings and focus on getting everything done.

i finally have time to clean up and dress.  Fortunately, my whole make-up routine takes literally five minutes.  She is at the kitchen sink, putting together silverware for the light spread out in the livingroom when i finish.  She says i look pretty.  i ask her if i look like Daddy’s princess, and she says i do, that i look like her Cinderella princess.  i kiss her cheek.  A kiss of appreciation, i say.  Well, finally, she replies, smiling at me.

She helps me pull the meatloaf out, put it in the crockpot to heat up later, and i mopped the kitchen and hauled the recycling and garbage down.  Sir Raven sweetly offered to do the job, but i said i preferred she cool off in the cold living room.

i know Master Kadden will be the first to arrive, because she is always on time.  i find out what she would like to drink as we come up the stairs.  i start spasming, have to wait, and she doesn’t get mad when i apologize or have to stand there a moment and wait it out.  i always feel slightly guilty, that i get more time with her than her own girls, because her relationships are all long distance.

We make a few minutes of small talk, and then i’m sent away to the bedroom, because my energy wasn’t good enough.  i was too chatty.  Heh.  Sir Raven is used to me being quiet, prefers this, and wants to be sure that i don’t get distracted in the room of people.  In her head, she isn’t the type of Master who wants a slave to be seen and not heard.  In practice, she likes this a lot, and this is far easier for me anyhow.  She basically wants me to speak up if i have something to add, but to not be chatty at all.  So…quiet, soft energy, girl energy-but to not let it veer off into happy chattering.  Another guest arrives, with his boy, and i inquire what they might like to drink on the hike up the stairs.  i like this Master a great deal, having known him for years from both Leather and Spiritual circles.  He likes me too, offers his cheek for a kiss, and tells me i already know what he would like to drink.  i pour two glasses of white wine, one for his boy, and Sir Raven teases me.  What? In my own house? Where’s my wine, girl?  i giggle and kiss her cheek, and rush off to serve her a glass of wine as well.  i offer each glass in my palm, bending low, and make sure everyone has what is desired before i am sent back to the quiet room.

The first two and a half years we were together, we never, ever had anyone in our house.  We have had to learn how to work together in a new way because of the podcasts, friendly gatherings, and Spiritual gatherings.  i had to learn how to breathe, let things go, accept that doing everything Sir Ravens way will result in much more work for me, and accept that this is how she handles feeling a bit out of control in her own environment.  Knowing that helps to let go, surrender my own ideas about how to do things, even if the meal would be far better.  Nothing matters more than her feeling like things went well.  i’m hopeful this will be the first time that i am not chided at the end of the evening for something, usually not being quiet enough.  Or being too quiet.  lol.

The menu:

turkey meatloaf, jasmine rice, green beans, corn on the cob, salad.  We have truffle oil for Sir Josh’s salad, lemonade because Master Kadden likes it, coke with lime for Ro, sake for later.  Green tea, lemonade, soda, fancy water, white and red wine, vodka, scotch, sake, champagne, orange juice, beer.

Right now, Sir Raven is teasing about how i will get everyone drunk, because i “border on annoying” and over serve.  i had just poked my head around, to see if glasses need to be filled or ashtrays dumped, and everyone had exploded in laughter.  See? Master Kaddan says, and everyone laughs.  Evidently, she had just said i was about to do it.  Sir Raven laughs easily, gestures me back to the bedroom like a naughty puppy.

Sir Raven and Master Kadden talk about collars, and Sir Raven says over time the collar has mattered as much to her as it always has to me, perhaps more.  Master Kadden correctly says it is a security symbol for me, as well.  Sir Raven says she removed it for my Florida trip, but if she offers any reason for why it is not locked back on my neck, i miss it as i struggle to not cry and let our last guests in.  Sir Raven had just finished saying that i had bawled when she removed it for me to get through airport security, and everyone replied ‘awww’ at the same time.  i have to walk through everyone in the livingroom, to go let our friends in.  i’m used to being talked about like i’m not here, even about very intimate matters, but this is one of the few topics that will cause me to feel something.  i work my face into a pleasant smile and head down the stairs.

Sir Josh and Ro get here, with loads of fancy bakery treats.  Some of  them are chocolate.  Woo hoo.  The whole family is here now (well, except for Karida).  It’s good having everyone home.  😀

Today, i give thanks for our chosen family, for being Sir Raven’s, and for hard work that matters.

So, i’m back

i went back out to the grocery store, to haul all of the vegetables, fruits, green tea, and so on that i was told not to buy yesterday.  i asked her to please check her texts as best she can today, because micromanagement really sucks when you are waiting for an answer to what you should buy.

Which happened.

Twice.

i came home to prep everything and it somehow took me three hours to wash and trim three pounds of string beans, clean corn on the cob, chop sweet peppers and onions for the turkey meatloaf, chop up more sweet peppers and broccoli, cauliflower, and carrots for the salad, make lemonade, stock the frig with beer, and put away the rest of the items.

Once, with Barbara, i was cleaning corn and couldn’t see to get the silk off well enough for her.  She had grabbed me by the shoulders, swung me around to face her, and shook my while saying, “Don’t you get it, girl? You are blind.  You can’t do everything you think you can do!” And then she took me in the room and angrily beat me with her grandfather’s horse whip and the belt i hated the most.  To her credit, she at least beat me through the anger.  i’ve never cleaned corn again without thinking about it, the shame of being blind.

This morning, i wrote about the first time Sir Raven ever used the strap on me.  To be really honest, there had been a couple of close calls, but we had been together about two years and i had begun to think privately that it wouldn’t really happen.  Sir Raven had mentioned wanting a sewing machine once (in passing, she thought) and i had researched and found an excellent model for 300 dollars when it should have been 500.  i read consumer reports, saved my money up, and proudly had it sent to her work.  She was livid.

So, when it didn’t happen then, i sort of thought it wouldn’t.  Certainly not for eating her cookies in a silent rage.  The strange thing is that when she wordlessly dragged me into the bedroom and ripped my clothes off while i was bent over the bed, my only association for that was rape.  So i was struggling to stay in my body when i really wanted out and to be safely on the ceiling.  i may not have agreed with her reason-or even knew what it was-in the moment, but i consider this to be part of being a slave.  If i did something bad enough in the eyes of the Owner to deserve a beating, then i accept it.  Period.  But the way it happened was so shocking, so upsetting, that i blocked out the skirt ripping part all together.  In fact, i asked her some months later if she knew where my skirt was, and felt all crazy when she said she had no idea what i was talking about.

And i was thinking it was weird that the corn thing stuck, and the skirt thing got repressed.

Anyhow, i was knee deep in organizing everything into clean, chopped, separate bowls, i got the text to get bagels because she wants to have a light spread of fruit salad, veggies and hummus, and bagels with cream cheese before the actual meal.

i went back out for the bagels and strawberries, and she called to send me out for wine.

i came in long enough to pour her juice, exhaustedly stand over her and use my best patient-Mommy voice to coax her to take meds.  Finally, spent, i say, “Mommy loves you but i may have to kill you if you don’t swallow this pill for me.”  For all the world she replies like a small, defiant child, and demands more juice making a gigantic elaborate display of how difficult it is to swallow the mucinex.  i want to jam her giant dick down her throat for a second, but go make myself a cup of coffee instead and take more meds because on a scale of one to ten, i’m at a 15 pain-wise.

 

i finally eat something for the first time all day.  i bought strawberry cream cheese which is heavenly on my bagel.  i have coffee, smoke a cigarette, and have a weird conversation with Sir Raven.  Because now we have apparently traded hats again.

 

i see this post on a Rescued animal site on facebook, and am absolutely horrified that a perfectly healthy dog who belongs to a deployed service member is on the kill list for Memorial Day weekend.  i was so upset, i literally considered going to get the dog myself.  Who kills a soldiers dog, for Christ sake?  i ask her if, after she had beat me senseless with the strap, if she would have let me keep the dog until the soldier comes home.  She considers it for a moment, because we both love soldiers and hate wars, and tells me that we won’t discuss this further.  That is Sir Raven speak for, “Yeah, you would have been beaten til you were literally trying to crawl into the wall again, but we can’t let a soldiers dog be killed.”  The only reason i did not go get the dog was thinking how scared she would have been listening to the sound of the strap. My dispassionate observer counted to 100 once, before she got bored across the room, watching me trying to crawl into the wall. That would have made it pretty hard for the poor dog to relax and bond here and that is the only reason i didn’t go get her.  i’m an empath, and this upset me to gigantic proportions.

If you were counting, the micromanagement (which SR believes she does not do) resulted in three extra trips so far.  She is watching her youtube chilling, reminded me to go out and get her cigarettes and more kleenex.  When i got back, i kissed her and then asked to come in the bedroom and write until i stopped feeling so weird.  i had planned to get my mani pedi today, which is overdue, and i need the touch to stop feeling this way.  With all the extra trips, i was clueless about what was on the housecard, and i have no way to know for sure unless SR tells me.  So, my mani pedi has to wait.  Thankfully gels don’t look bad, they just hurt when your nails grow out.  i want my nails to not be hurting but i’m also looking forward to the big strong hands massaging me, grabbing and moving me around, and clearing my mind out.

In unrelated news: i’m wearing what Sir Raven has dubbed my second life dress.  See?  With my white cane.  Unfortunately, i can’t fly or hit people with my white cane when i’m not in second life.  😀  Just like on second life, except the avatar isn’t curvy like me.  Forgive the pile of paperwork by my head.  i’m not allowed to mess with those. 😀

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On edge

i’m feeling a bit edgy today.  Uncharacteristically grumpy.  Sir Raven texted me on the way home yesterday that she was starving, so i prepared two grilled cheese sandwiches for her.  i set them out hot on her tray, with a fruit cup, more meds, and ice water.  She didn’t mention that she needed to not eat that and felt bad, mostly because it was what she actually wanted.  No problem.  i made her eggs, bacon, and buttered bread instead.  Then she went straight to bed.  i stayed up, cleaned everything up, and couldn’t sleep for several more hours.

She has come home early twice this week, stayed home a day, but yesterday was her long day which is hard when she isn’t sick.  So, i get it.  i really do.

We are having the crew over for a podcast tomorrow, so i have shopping and prep work to do today.  Sir Raven was annoyed that i bought soda, questioned me about it this morning, but finally accepted it when i pointed out it would have cost more for me to buy a single can of soda than the whole 2 liter on sale.  She controls the shit out of what i make and prepare when people come over.  i have no idea why.  i buy the food and drink and alcohol, and have happily put off my own extras to do it.  There have been several times i set part of my money aside to get my hair professionally done or buy a new dress, and used the money for our crew instead.  Friends matter to me.  It matters to me hugely that people feel warmth and comfort in my Master’s home.

Any regular day, i buy and cook without much instruction from Sir Raven.  She enjoys my cooking a great deal, and she knows i put time and effort into making my little check stretch.  i will go to multiple stores to save money.  i will forgo doing things for myself.  Happily so.  Sir Raven provides well for us, but i see part of my job as not squandering money.  Sir Raven is more inclined to decided she wants something and buy it on the spot.  i’m careful, will spend months researching and looking for the best product to be on sale and buy it then.

i have issues around being questioned, particularly when we are talking about a frigging dollar item, as was literally the case with the soda.  Of course, Sir Raven has every right to question or make demands about what comes into the house.  She generally controls these things but avoids micromanagement unless people are coming over.  i know overall what is okay and not okay to buy, which scents and brands are acceptable to her.

Still, i notice that i pitch my voice higher with deliberation to answer her questions.  i lower my head with deliberation.  Being sweet is generally my natural state, not something i have to force often.  When she leaves for work, i light a candle, work slowly on chores because every-fucking-thing hurts today, and wonder why i was feeling like such a bitch over nothing at all.

Oh.

i’ve noticed the low level anxiety for days, without judgement.  Without poking at it or examining it, just keeping the focus on sitting with it, and reminding myself that i know what to do if it gets too high.  But then i started shoving sugar it at, so i needed to examine what was going on.

Sir Raven has not been able to drink for days, because she has been too sick.  The first time she did that-quit drinking- was right after her break up with the Marine, but it was also the first time she beat me with the strap after ripping my beautiful suede skirt and panties off me.  i may have unconsciously connected those things.  She beat me because i was willful and ate almost all her cookies in a silent rage.  Just figuring out what i was anxious about resolved it and i feel like i can exhale again.  Whew.  Thats better.  Time to take a hot shower, let the residue go down the drain, and get on with the day.

Today, i give thanks that i know how to feel, even when it is uncomfortable.

Pour some sugar on me

Yesterday, i decided to have ice cream for dinner.  And then i just couldn’t stop.  i’m going days hardly eating and then that.  i need to pay attention to this.  Since i went to my doctor Monday, i did the Monday chores today.  The house is dusted, fresh sheets on the bed, floors shiny and mopped twice, frig cleaned out.  The stove top needs some work, but i forgot to buy brillo pads.  i washed the cabinets and all.  i washed the walls.  i ran errands.

Finally, i showered and shaved but was too tired to wash my hair.  Seriously.  i usually wait til Sir Raven is home to put on pjs, in case she wants to send me out for something.  i have cold meds, kleenex with lotion, cough drops, and soup for her dinner.  i’m still waiting for my poor Master to come home.

Even though i spent hours today working, i also spent hours in meditation, colored a mandala picture, and talked on the phone for awhile.  i also got to text a friend.  i appreciate that i’m allowed all of these things, and writing here, which helps a ton.

i was tremendously chatty after all the sugar yesterday, and my blogging friends were awesome.  Thanks guys!  i had to be silent on the outside and at least got to goof off my sugar rush.  Sugar makes me naughty.  😛

When in Rome…

The Ancient Romans had a festival, lasting as long as 6 days in some municipalities, where the slaves became the Master.

Okay, so i doubt that they really became the Master.  It would never cross my mind to send Sir Raven out to purchase a battery suitable for a shock collar.  I’d never leave a strap right on the desk, where she would have to see it every. single. day.  I would not want to interrupt her for a commercial, send her out in the heat or rain to get the one snack not in the house, or tell her off.  These are all real life examples around here.

If i had time where i could do anything i wanted, it would look more like this:

A private handfasting/marriage at the Plaza, in a private suite.   i want candles, Shango, and photos of our Grandmothers on a table, surrounded by flowers.   i want to wear something that makes me feel beautiful for you and i want you to be comfortable and choose jeans if  that is what you want.  i care about wearing a skirt or dress, something a bit special, but not a wedding dress.  Black tulle would be cool.

i want to be married (in either sense) and have the officiant immediately leave, so we can drink champagne, have you beat me senseless, and fuck.  Then, you can go down to the men’s bar, where i figure Sir Josh will be drinking fantastic scotch and waiting.  i’d invite Karida and Ro for private massages and giggle about the ring-from Tiffanys-because you are a snob. 🙂 We could have all of our friends over for champagne, cake, and pictures.  No weird toasts.  No fanfare.  No rice.  No invitations. No weirdness.  No gifts.  For all i care, we could have a podcast after that.  Or a wild s/m party.

Later, alone, i’d paint your body and photograph you.  You are so beautiful, so strong, so funny.  And i want to capture every line, every moment, how you take my breath away.  i could wear a geisha robe and feed you sushi from my hands.  You could paint me with henna, burn your symbol into my flesh.  Tattoo your symbol into my right wrist, where i can see it, touch it.  We could exchange gifts of leather.

We’d paint and drink wine and laugh.

Then, i’d fix a bath for you and wash you gently.  Massage lotion all over your body.  Smile up at you from the floor, where i’m kneeling at your feet.  We did it, sweetie you’d say, proud.  We’d fuck again, less hurried this time, and i’d massage you to sleep.

We’d honeymoon at Disney for a few days, for sure.  You do love the little girl in me, despite yourself.  And it would make me very, very, very happy.  Almost getting a puppy happy.  Almost Tiffanys happy.  Almost go to a real Ballet happy.  That’s pretty much up there.   We could stay at the hotel where everything is from Africa, hand-made by Africans.  It’s as close as we can get your family to Africa.

Evidently, if i could do what i wanted, the focus would still be on you-and on us.  Doing something to acknowledge and strengthen our bonds, spend quality time together, enjoy each other, let us both have what we need to relax and feel good.  If i had a less passive role in our relationship, i’d insist that she see doctors, walk in the gardens more because it grounds her, take a real vacation every year with me, and repaint the house.  Okay, alright, if i’m being honest i’d also redo the entire kitchen and buy a high quality futon.  And a puppy.  But thats it.  Really.  😀

 

That means that i have a lot of what really matters to me.  i always felt kind of bad when Sir Raven would say that she works to keep me in the lifestyle in which i’ve become accustomed and never points out that i contribute too.  i was watching a documentary the other day though where the husband was asked if he gets strength from his marriage.  He immediately said, “no.”  It was so sad to me, but then i got it in an instant.  When Sir Raven would like to burn her workplace down, she thinks of me, and that gives her strength to find another way to approach the issue or person.  When i have tough pain days, like today, i know i will feel better the instant she comes home and we kiss.  My mind and body are trained that way.  We have rituals and protocols that support it.  i also express gratitude daily.  Today, i thanked her for the a/c she bought and installed last year so i could be comfortable.  i’m legitimately thankful for the comforts she provides me with.  i’m still her happy place, and that means everything to me.

That is what she is saying when she talks about providing for me, not that i’m a burden, but that i give her reason to keep pushing herself.  That says a lot about us.  She is the reason i push myself so hard as well.

i put thought into everything for her comfort.  i toil long hours.  i work more hours a day than Sir Raven, because i’m up fetching, cooking, cleaning, running out to grab a snack or more wine, filling ice water, dumping ashtrays, keeping lists, and just being quiet but available to her.  i pack her lunch, do her laundry, set up french press, and bring her ice water to her bedside at night.  She has to do nothing outside of work, and she works damn hard.  i’m truly proud of her hard work, and feel like we are going into a phase soon where it will pay off.  We are both working at all we can.

Our hard work needs to be more balanced with play, and i think we are going to have our toil bear fruit soon enough.

Dear Canadians,

Last night, i watched a highly disturbing documentary about the abuse, murder, and missing First Nation women in Canada.  Come on, guys.  We (and i’m speaking for all of America at the moment) think of you as our older, more mature brother.  You know, people you can trust to own a gun without using it on their own family members, innocent bystanders, and so on.

You guys can get drunk at the parties and manage to not just start raping women.

You know, more mature.

So-wtf?

If Trump wins, my plan is to run like hell behind Sir Raven to Canada.  You guys might be our salvation.  We bravely toughed out bush Bush presidents.  We held our chin up through bankruptcies, hurricanes, floods, and naked hatred of women.  Trump is just too much.

i see a record number of Canadians reading me.

Hi guys.  i hear you don’t spank with belts there.  Fantastic.   You may be getting a few more residents soon.  Please be kind to us.  We are an arrogant, egocentric, hurting country in the midst of some unflattering growing pains.  Many of us want to be better than this-but we were told we are the best since infancy.  The luckiest.  The most advanced.  That is a great way to keep people ignorant without having to censor them.

 

As soon as i tell other littles and babygirls that there is evidently a No Belts policy, we are going to have one hell of a tea party.  Who’s in?  😀

On a very serious and tragic note:

We have to be able to help somehow here.  A society will never be greater than how they treat their women.  For more information:

 

http://womanviceland.tumblr.com/