Thursday 24 March 2011

Sex + Food = Winner

[Also Kidfos.]



I did promise sexual debauchery and food together didn’t I. And as I have access to this blog until Bambi gets her new contract sorted out I thought why the hell not just post it on here.

So with out further ado I shall I shall delve into the murky realm of my past. . .

Bananas seem to be a fruit that spring to mind almost instantly. Many people will no doubt agree that they are amongst the first items that they have used when it comes to sex and food. I mean why not? They tend to be fairly long, thick and have a natural curve that if placed in expert hands can tickle the G-spot all night long.

Word of warning though, Do leave the skin on if you plan to insert it. Back in the mists of time when I was but a ball of raging hormones I had my first encounter with a girl who was willing to try the fruity idea out. Being somewhat naive back then I peeled it beforehand. And all was good until she twisted one way and I turned it the other.
It snapped, and needless to say panic erupted. It had broken off inside her and due to the wetness of her nether region it was almost impossible to get a hold of the slippery little bugger. ( I did eventually after almost 30 minutes, manage to retrieve it. Though I think she may still be in therapy.)

Also worth mentioning are cucumbers and mini milk lollypops. Though as with anything from the freezer make sure you dont apply it straight away. A woman with freezer burns to her pussy is never likely to forgive you. ( Trust me!)

Those of you of a certain age will remember a film where the two leads sat by an open refrigerator, and while one closed their eyes the other took used items of food as foreplay. Strawberries, cream, jelly and pretty much anything that you can drip, drizzle or tease your partners lips with is acceptable. Dipping a chocolate in hot sauce, while immensely funny, is not.

If you must take food into the bedroom then a small amount of forethought can be useful. As can a mini fridge to keep things cool or warm as required. ( Hot chocolate syrup anyone? ) A few towels or old bed sheets save on a lot of washing later. Oh and dont forget to scrub each other down later in case you missed licking anything off. The bath or shower after a lengthy session with peanut butter and jam can be as much fun as the previous act itself!

Some people though will wish to take it a step further. Now its not something I have done on many occasions, but I have been fortunate enough in my travels to meet those who are REALLY into food based kinkiness. Im talking plastic sheets in the house folks for this. Baked beans, soups, cakes and custards all appear at some point. Its more like a perverts buffet than sex and as you can imagine gets incredibly messy. Believe me though that there is something intrinsically erotic about rolling about on top of several black forrest gateau with a partner. . .

Hopefully for those that haven’t tried it, you will, those that have well feel free to share stories and ideas. The beauty of food and sex together is the only limits are your imaginations.

*** Kidfos ***

Tuesday 22 March 2011

Now this REALLY is a hijack.

[Posted by Kidfos, when my internet was down. And no, he didn't read any personal mail. Just the one-liners.]



Your friend and mine Sati has asked me to inform you all that she is in the process of getting a new internet contract and as such will be away from here in her usual capacity of Bambi up until the weekend. Dependent on how well the net monkeys are at patching her back in of course.

Until then she has foolishly left me in charge. ( Well asked me to post that message, but to me its the same thing.)

Thus far I have not plunged her blog into anarchy and chaos, but it may only be a matter of time until the temptation becomes to much. Actually we may only be talking minutes until it happens. . .

Until then please feel free to give me suggestions on what you would do in this situation and if you would ever trust me to babysit your profile and blog?

Peace
&
Your friendly neighborhood Kidfos.

P.s. Fellas, I've seen the mail thats been sent. Really, I'm speechless. How do some of you EVER get laid? =))

Friday 18 March 2011

Flat Blueberry Scones

[The recipe called these blueberry diggles, but several people commented on that being a dirty name, although they didn't explain why.]

Found these in a garden center catalogue, and Mom made them this afternoon, and they're fabulous! And easy as anything to make. :)

You need:

- 85g / 3oz fresh blueberries

- 85g / 3oz butter or margarine

- 225g / 8oz self-raising flour (in US, cake flour)

- 85g / 3oz caster sugar (I use unrefined, although white is OK - and if you can't get caster, granulated works alright, although it comes out a bit gritty.)

- 1 egg

- 1 tbsp granulated sugar (optional)

Equipment:

- 1 medium-sized bowl

- 1 scales

- 1 wooden spoon

- 1 baking sheet

- 1 small bowl

- 1 french whisk

Method:

1 ) Preheat oven to 200 C / 400 F / Gas Mark 6.

2 ) Rinse blueberries. Stir in granulated sugar if you're using it.

3 ) In small bowl, beat egg.

4 ) In medium bowl, rub butter into flour. Add caster sugar, and make a well in the center.

5 ) Pour egg into well. Mix together well until you have a nice dough.

6 ) Break dough into small pieces and roll into balls around the size of a large walnut. Place onto a greased baking tray and squish down a little bit. Make a small dent in the center of each ball and spoon in four or five blueberries.

7 ) Bake for 12 - 15 minutes, or until golden.

Should make about 12, although you can make them a bit bigger or smaller if you like. (If you do, adjust baking time accordingly.)

Naked Boobies Up For Grabs! Visit Now!

[This post was left down, due to the fact that it might well have caused a riot in my home town.]

Tuesday 15 March 2011

Dessert Or Disaster

- OPEN SCENE -

It is Sati's birthday - which, btw, falls on the 3rd of MAY - and she is celebrating in style. For once in her life she's dressed up, in an ivory-colored version of the red dress that she showed you back in February, with matching heels that make her legs look slender and long, and her makeup is flawless.

She, along with several friends - including but not limited to Ellie, Curt, Christie, Olivia,
Kid, Babs, Kel, Bubbles (who came back for the party), LuLu and Mr M, MGC, Annie, Wordy, Templar, InnerPeace, Thom, Arty, Mollipop, Sasha and several more - are gathered at some nightclub somewhere in London that magically pleases everyone, including Sati and Kid, whose tastes for nightlife are at opposite ends of the spectrum.

Sati is dancing, and miraculously staying cool and comfortable while she does so, probably due to the Caribbean breeze that blows through from the open terrace over the ocean - you know, that wonderful Caribbean ocean that London sits on. Curt is plying her with virgin strawberry daiquiris, a drink that Sati has never had (or made, or seen) before but she imagines to be something like a freshly-made strawberry milkshake with real berry pieces in. Everyone is sitting in the VIP section, taking up the majority of the seats in the area, and having a wonderful time talking and laughing and dancing and eating.

Curt taps Sati on the shoulder, and gestures behind her. Sati turns around, and there to serenade her for her birthday are the boys of JLS.

JB gives her a big hug. Marvin kisses her hand. Oritse gives her a naughty wink, and Aston hands her a beautiful red rose. And then they start to sing.


JLS: # You only get one shot, so make it count, you might never get this moment again...#

Sati (interrupting): I'm sorry, I really have to protest. You appear to be basing this statement on the idea that time is entirely linear, which to my mind is at least semi-fallacious.


The room disappears. Sati wakes up.

- CLOSE SCENE -


Damn, I can't even get good romance in my dreams at the moment.

Monday 14 March 2011

OK, Where's My Blue Bikini?

In a bit of a rush today, which feels totally wrong, since it's sunny and warm and should be a lazy day for lying out in the garden in a bikini.

BUT...no stomach bug (so far) - whoop whoop! :)

Comments will be made, emails will be answered. Soon, I hope.

*huggles*


[Later - oh, look, here it is!]

Saturday 12 March 2011

Who Wants To Help Me Rochambeau Wayne Rooney?

Oy veh. This has been one of those days when I lose hope that I'll ever be able to move up in the world, karmically-speaking. Not only did I eat two bags of Quavers that Christie bought me, when I'm supposed to have given up potato chips and chocolate (along with being antisocial, LOL ) for Lent, but I also called Wayne Rooney a cunt, twice, and said that I hoped someone sniped him with a rifle. Ouch.

The chips are forgivable - sometimes I don't even do anything for Lent, since I'm only "Catholic-ish", not really fully Christian. It's just that I hate saying I'm going to do something and then not following through, especially for a stupid reason like temptation. At my age I should be able to make a choice and stick to it, rather than doing exactly what I want exactly when I want. The swearing, not so bad, although I do kind of wish I hadn't used that word in front of my mother. But wishing death on someone...yeah, that's pretty harsh. I don't do that. And even though I know I don't really wish someone would shoot him, it's still a pretty awful thing to say.

And oh God, my boy Djourou. What a tragedy. FIVE FREAKIN' MINUTES he lay on that pitch before they felt confident enough to carry him off. You know how serious an injury has to be for someone to lie there five minutes with a game in progress? A couple minutes later the commentators said that it was a confirmed shoulder injury, and I said, Bollocks to that. I know that boy - I met him through work - and I know how tough he is physically, and he would NOT lie there, unmoving, for five minutes if it were just a mild shoulder injury. Latest news says definitely a dislocated shoulder, and probably a broken collarbone. That sounds more like it, those things are excruciating. I've dislocated my shoulder before - unfortunately when I was in the shower at the gym - and it didn't have *me* lying there paralysed for five minutes, but the collarbone would do it.

But hell, at least it wasn't a crushed or bruised spinal cord, which it could have been.


(You can probably see why I don't watch a lot of sport. Or, for that matter, read the news. I take attacks and cheating personally.)



*sigh*


So yeah, not the best of days. I went shopping this morning with Christie, because Jane Norman were supposed to have a big sale, but everything in the whole freakin' sale is a size 6 or 8. I don't even KNOW anyone who wears a size 8 as an adult, at least not a Jane Norman 8 (which is more like a 6). And I tried on the dress I wanted (not on sale), the one I was thinking of getting to wear to weddings, and it's too tight in the boobs, and waaay too short to wear to a wedding. Christie said wear it with leggings, but I don't know what type of weddings she's been going to.


Plus the asshole bank have taken money out of my account to pay my last set of overdraft charges, which has pushed me over AGAIN. I get that I have to pay them, but couldn't they at least warn me when they're taking money out, so I could make sure I have enough in there to cover it? This happens at least four or five times a year - I have plenty of money in the bank, then they take out a whole bunch of charges (which can be up to £88 a month - about $150) and those charges push me overdrawn, consequently incurring more charges.


And I found my diary, after misplacing it for a few days, and found out that I missed a meeting on Thursday with my financial consultant. I did not, however, find my keys. I don't care about the keys themselves, I have other copies and can get new ones cut, but I had a nice little blue lace agate piece on there, and more importantly, a really lovely keyring from Tiffanys that LOML gave me for my 21st. And I don't have the heart to tell him I lost it, so I'm gonna have to figure out a way to save up and replace it, and then own up later.


In addition to this, Christie has been sick to her stomach all week, and didn't think to tell me before I met her. She's insistent that it wasn't a bug, since her mom and Tony didn't get it (YET), and says it was either a reaction to new medication, or food poisoning. But I don't know if she's just being optimistic. So now I'm living in fear of catching a stomach bug.


(In case you haven't read the rest of my blog, this is not an irrational fear; the last 48-hour stomach bug that mom brought home had me bedbound for 2 months and off my food for 9 months. No immune system, or at least a barely functional one.)


I think Anne of Green Gables called this a Jonah Day. I read the first one the other day, and I'm currently on Anne of Avonlea. :)


Ugh, I have a fever. I think I need an early night, and then fingers crossed, I'll be fine tomorrow, and bug-free (and will stay that way).


And Wayne Rooney, you nasty little troglodyte, I hope everyone realises what a thug you are so even a POS like Alex Ferguson won't hire you, and Colleen divorces you and takes all your money.


Please tell me you had a better day than I did!

Friday 11 March 2011

Do Not Screw With Me, Motherfucker - I Have Physics On My Side

My clumsiness is getting on top of me today. This evening, before I collapsed on my bed and fell asleep (at 9pm!) I was changing the bed and felt the headboard (can you call it a headboard when it's made of metal tubes?) move and squeak. It's been doing it for a couple weeks, and it's really, really annoying. So I figured, easy enough to tighten up. Went to get my toolkit. Used an alan key to tighten the screw that I thought was causing it. Dropped my alan key. Bent down to get it, and kicked it into the big crack between my skirting board and floorboards. I can see now why Mom uses ones that have little holes in the bottom and hang on a ring altogether.

Argh. No way to rescue it, that I can see. I can't get my fingers in there, the crack's less than a centimeter wide, and I have sausage fingers. But I don't want to leave it there, either, since then my toolkit would be incomplete - never mind that it's already missing a screwdriver that I lent to one of the idiotic and disorganized lodgers, who swore that they gave it back. (Lies, all lies!)

Tried to go in with pliers. Pliers are too thick. Tried to go in with wire cutters. Wire cutters are thin enough, but the head's the wrong shape. Tried to go in with tweezers. Tweezers are small and the right shape, but don't grip properly, and the alan key keeps falling out, when I can grip it at all.

What to do? Went downstairs, got a small, long magnet from the fridge door. Not strong enough. Went and got a bigger magnet. Strong enough, but too big to get down the crack. Time to give up, you think? Hell no!

Stuck the big magnet to the top of the tweezers, turning them into a magnet too. Went in with tweezers, and ta dah! The alan key stuck to them. Result.

Now I have a scraped thumb, and I had to take another bath since I got dirty lying on the floor. But I also have a full set of alan keys. And my headboard doesn't squeak.

:D

Saturday 5 March 2011

If You Ask Me If I Want Six Inches Of Hot Meat In Me...

...you'd damn well better be taking about a Meatball Marinara Subway sandwich.

Yeah, I went to Subway today. First time ever. And it was awesome. Enough salt to kill my kidneys, but still awesome.

And then I came home and shuffled through the crap in my inboxes. I'm not sure if the above guy was being tongue-in-cheek or not. I don't think six inches is particularly bragworthy - not particularly cringeworthy either, but not something that I'd consider unusual enough to mention as a selling point - but who knows.

It's been a strange week. After my lack of internet (where I couldn't do any paperwork unless I posted it by snail mail), and after all the ear infections that show no signs of letting up (and the doctors still won't refer me to a specialist, and I can't afford to go privately), and after a couple weeks of dizziness that may or may not be related, and after several months of wanting to sleep all the damn time, my boss finally said: Go home. And don't come back for a few weeks. So I have no work - although that also means no income, so I'm trying to pick up a couple of temporary things.

I should be happy for the free time, but I don't have enough energy to actually get anything constructive (like spring cleaning) done. After hauling Ryan's massive television (since both my little ancient one and Massimo's medium-sized one have broken) and killing my eyes playing Spyro the Dragon 1 through 3 on my PS1, and reading my way through Beverly Barton's The Protectors series and Charlaine Harris' Lily Bard Mysteries and a couple of Tamora Pierce series as well as several stand-alone Dean Koontz books, and spending two afternoons retraining myself to squirt, and making a pest of myself flirting with LOML by text when he's supposed to be studying, and sleeping blocks of fifteen hours at a time (bear in mind that I usually sleep four or five hours a night), I'm not sure what to do with myself next. Sleep and eat, I guess. Like a bear. Rawr. Except if you want to sweeten me up for something, meatballs work better than honey.

I saw Christie today, for the first time in a month. I sent her another FB message, saying get in touch sometime, and then she texted last night to ask if I wanted to go shopping today. So we did, and I got a strappy fairy dress (that's how I think of them; it's one of those ones with all the flowy panels in the skirt) in a bright turquoise color. Great for summer. And they finally got the black ballerina flats back in New Look, so I got some of them too. Now I have black flats and white flats, I'm set for shoes for the next six months at least. I also spent a disgusting amount of money on stupid things like cosmetics and groceries.(£8.95 for razor blades! £16 for Coca-Cola, orange juice, two red peppers and a New Scientist magazine!) Somehow when I run out of one thing, I run out of everything else at the same time. I still need pore cleanser and facial scrub, but those will have to wait till next week. And I found a beautiful, three-of-a-kind (i.e. LIMITED) scarf in New Look, white with a paisley print in pastels. Not a busy print, just a little bit here and there, enough to make it interesting. They only have three, but I'm trusting to fate and hoping it's still there on Monday or Tuesday, whenever I next get into town.

Hum, what else? Tommy Jay, my twin, is thinking of enlisting for the Air Force (American) and if he gets in, is hoping to get posted to England. That would be really neat, since he lives in Ohio right now. I'm proud of him, and I hope that the military makes a man out of him. Normally I think that psychics have no business serving in the armed forces, but somehow this decision feels right, in my stomach. And, of course, it'd be nice to be able to see him. :)

Curt and I are planning on spending a couple days down in Somerset at Easter, but it'll depend on his schedule, and on my parents'.

So yeah, it's been a nice couple days. I wish that I weren't so tired and on so much of an emotional rollercoaster, but hey, you can't have everything.

How was your week?

Friday 4 March 2011

The Many Lives Of Sati Marie Frost

I have been blogging for fourteen years.

In case you think you read that wrong, I'll repeat: I have been blogging for fourteen years. I started keeping an online journal when I was thirteen, at the beginning of 1997, way before anyone was using the word blog. The internet was new(ish). Ask Jeeves was the premier search engine and Google hadn't been invented, or at least wasn't widely available (I don't know exactly when it was invented - history of the internet is not something I've studied). Social networks were barely even thought of, and chatrooms and email were the primary ways to keep in touch with people. My first email account wasn't even a proper online one, it was one where you dialed up a connection and then the modem allowed you online for a few minutes while it retrieved the messages, and then you could read them offline.

Nobody I knew had the internet aside from my stepfather, who built computers. I was the first kid in my high school class of 80-odd to have an email address of my own. But twice a week after school, when I was in eighth and ninth grade, I would walk to my stepfather's house and use Microsoft Works to write a journal entry detailing what had happened that week, and my feelings about things. And then I would dial up an internet connection, and log onto Yahoo and copy-paste my journal entry to my Yahoo Geocities page. And then I'd email the page number (you couldn't choose a domain name back then) to my friends' fathers' email addresses, with "PRIVATE: FOR {FRIEND'S} EYES ONLY" in the subject bar. Occasionally I'd use the teen chatrooms, and meet people in there, and I'd give them the address. And I had a link to it in my Yahoo profile, too. So I slowly built up a readership, some of whom I still talk to today. The page didn't allow for comments, so all comments came in the form of email. But they did come. And I still have a handful of online friends, from America and Australia, to whom I can say, hey, remember when? and they will.

I got my first home internet connection when I was 15, and it was a dial-up, pay-per-minute service. I didn't know how much they would charge until my mother called me into the kitchen to ask me why that month's phone bill was over £200 (maybe $300) when it usually ran to £10-15. I worked at the local university all summer to pay off that bill. And discovered the wonders of a computer lab that was always open and didn't charge staff to use the internet, LOL.

My blog has seen many different incarnations: from the original Geocities page, to a LiveJournal page that I updated once every few months, to a Kiwibox journal that I used only for things that I wanted kept private from friends, to a long-running Bolt journal (I spent most of my internet time in my teens, from 1997 through to 2001, on Bolt) that I wrote in frequently, to my college blog that I ran as ambassador for my entire college, to a collection of notes on my Facebook page, and now to AFF, and to here.

I've given you this piece of history to explain this: I am tired. Fourteen years, more than half my lifetime, I have lived a public life, with my heart open and my feelings and actions, at least a large portion of them, on display.

I am tired.

I've been reading a lot of posts lately where friends have talked about their blogging careers. They talk about the last year, or last couple of years, and I think, really? Has it only been that long? But at the same time I can understand how it can feel like a lifetime, because people like Bubbles and LuLu and Smarty have said and done more of substance in their year, or two years, or four years, than I have in my fourteen.

I am not leaving. I doubt I will ever leave the blog world completely, and when the time comes to move on from this site, I hope that all of my dear readers will come and visit me in my next incarnation. But I am slowing down a bit. The kind of fatigue and apathy that I've been feeling for the last X months is warning me that something's wrong, and something needs to change.

My choice to slow down, and see if I wish to fade out, is not due to the venom that I see on here daily. There are times when it makes me angry, but more often I simply find myself shaking my head in amazement that adults in their forties and fifties still haven't learned the simple truth that I already knew at seventeen: things change. Lives change, worlds turn. People rise to the tops of lists, and then fall into obscurity. A small handful of people stick with you throughout your life, and the rest fall away. You can try and jam the door shut, stop the world from moving along, or you can take a deep breath and accept the fact that nothing lasts forever, and be happy with the knowledge that you touched people's lives. Now is wonderful, and later will be wonderful too, but it will not be the same.

One day, I hope to make a site with all of my posts, from all of my incarnations. I was never a person who trusted to technology, and because of this I have paper copies of them; ten or twelve books full of memories of my life. A few have gotten lost along the way, but the majority are there. So one day, perhaps you will be able to read about the entire life, or near enough, of one average, albeit slightly odd, girl.

For now, I will be here. Just, not as much of me as you used to see.

I feel like I should have some profound ending to this note, something that causes music to play and lights to fade out dramatically. I don't have anything. I am used up. So all I will say is this: you touched my life. All of you who commented here, all of you who read me anywhere else. And I leave a piece of my heart with each one of you.

I love you.