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| Blogs > MsStig2010 > Meanwhile Back At The Ranch |
Bowel Shaking Earthquakes of Doubt & Remorse
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Bowel Shaking Earthquakes of Doubt & Remorse I'm ready to admit my current state of dress is a Chicago Bears shirt ( kicking it old school with a 34 on my back  , panties, hair in a messy bun, and freaking cake drunk. I've been eating relatively well the past few weeks per the usual, taking my vitamins, getting my sleep on, but today...today was a cake day. I *rarely* make cakes. Let's not confuse this with the Julia caliber meals this bitch makes. My desserts are delightful, as are my goodies oh my goodies, but cake it not in the normal, " Hm, I'm in the mood to bake! Let's bake a cake, puppies!" The dogs are also serving as waste management at the moment and they don't seem to have a sweet tooth, ergo we tend to cook more savory noms. Back to the cake ( and I threw a line of a Cake song in as the title because why the fuck not? Cake is cake!) Work...I'd like someone to remind me how much of a whiner I was a few months ago when I was unemployed, work has been more of a challenge than it needs to be. But you know, I put on my big girl panties and deal with this shit because that's what I'm getting paid to do. Principles and morals don't pay the bills, now is not the time to be a vigilante. With the month coming to an end and my team is nowhere near the numbers we need to be at, we have to close some gaps before heading into March. With that comes an obnoxiously early conference call, spread sheets a mile long, and more corporate ass kissing than I can stand at 8 am. Need I remind everyone that for the past 8 years I've in veterinarian clinics which comes with it's own problems but Jesus there were puppies! And kittens! And piglets on occasion! The fluffy tails and wet noses negated the minor dramas compared to what I'm putting up with now. Seriously y'all, I might as well be showing up in shit kickers, daisy dukes, and a straw hat doing a jig saying, " Well Golly Gee, y'all! I'm just a lil tadpole swimmin' in a big ole' pond now I reckon!" Cue the banjo and exit stage left. Mid conference call, it hit. Just a brief thought because someone said something about eating a pop<b> tart. </font></b>When was the last time I had a pop tart? I like the strawberry ones. I have some strawberries about to go bad, what to do? Mmm...shortcake. Cake. Holy fuck I need cake. NOOOOOWWWWWWWW! So for the rest of the conference call I thought about cake. Tres leches cake specifically. That was my motivation to get through the day unscathed because at the end of the road, at 4pm when my ass would be walking out the door I'd be coming home to make a cake. So I did just that. Opened the back door for the doggies, let the breeze come in, and made a cake. And baked some chicken and had a large spinach salad to justify the cake. I've eaten 2 pieces with no regrets. Of course this comes after my declaration about losing weight next month. To reiterate, my eating habits have been on the healthier side, I've been walking the dogs, been to the gym...at the end of the day the fat girl just needs some cake. And to change into a t shirt that makes my boobs look even more enormous than the usual. Speaking of which...in addition to giving up coffee for Lent I seem to be giving up sex as well. Not my initial thought but the thrill of the hunt is gone. I have hit my slut ceiling. I may never enjoy another orgasm for the next 40 days and night but I'm ok with that. The thing of it is, I'm just not interested. I've done sex for sport. I've established a mental connection with someone, I've had a lover, I've had an on going let's fuck in your car kind of deal and honestly thinking about it all now...I just haven't met anyone worth the time. Granted I thought I met someone pretty chill a few weeks ago, sex was great but you know, the whole drop in communication ball because he's avoiding me for whatever fucktard reason doesn't fuel my fire to get back out there. And since when did sex become a metric in my life now? What the fuck kind of nonsense is that shit? Jesus Christ I'm annoying myself. Point is, I'm looking at chastity belts if anyone knows a guy. All pretty girls are a trap, a pretty trap, and men expect them to be. |
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Hey, a break of cake-chastity isn't really a bad thing, as long as the break doesn't become a habit, then a lifestyle. I was Catholic once. Once. Smart as a horse and hung like Einstein.
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