http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php Butch-Femme.com is a real world community for Butch and Femme dykes. en Sat, 11 Oct 2008 12:10:33 GMT vBulletin 60 http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/images/misc/rss.jpg http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=499 Mon, 06 Oct 2008 15:50:00 GMT To Dispel yet another myth that women are credit card shopaholics, with a focus on their significant other's bank account balance and yearly income, is farly removed from the truth and struck me as another stigma faced by women cigar smokers, and women in general.

The women cigar smoker, in which I identify with and for which in the large part, form a high percentage of the consumer sector, are intelligent, career focused and professional women. Their Identity is truely theirs. Personally, professionally, and financially.

So, if I may quote Warren Buffett:
Be willing to be different.
Girls, I've been smoking cigars since the mid 90's. I'm way past what people think.

RED HOT ALERT
Watch out for the primates stuck in the stonage.

I'm not a cigar smoking woman for shock value. I just think women can do anything at anytime. (k) Living my life.

(ip) ]]> treesx2 http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=499 http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=498 Sat, 04 Oct 2008 22:14:58 GMT I feel very vulnerable right now.

Is pain a lesson?

Then I have been a very bad student because I still don't get it.

I wasn't made for this world.


Elisheba ]]> ELISHEBA http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=498 http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=500 Sat, 04 Oct 2008 20:01:00 GMT .....shopping that is. I belief outside of those green vegetable things that are round and smell like a frogs behind (what are those darn things called?) …ah yes, Brussel Sprouts, I pretty much do not hate anything .. other than shopping. Even the worst moron in the world I do not hate … but I hate... .....shopping that is. I belief outside of those green vegetable things that are round and smell like a frogs behind (what are those darn things called?) …ah yes, Brussel Sprouts, I pretty much do not hate anything .. other than shopping. Even the worst moron in the world I do not hate … but I hate shopping. The USA has malls, in some shape or form, everywhere. Hating it as I do, in the USA I was lucky to be able to place my hatred on hold and shop online when I needed anything, ranging from computer equipment all the way to groceries.

Globe trotting and a bohemian life does not always lend itself to sliding with an airplane into a culture that is ‘shopper-hater’ friendly. The discrimination starts immediately upon arrival. You are assaulted with darling 'mom and pop' stores as you take a cab back into history, and when you do finally need to brave the world to obtain sustenance, you cannot turn on your PC and just click to get your bread, oh nope, you have to walk out the front door, walk a few feet, turn the corner and stand there evaluating the big sign inviting you to be discriminated against some more. Your life, your survival depends on this discrimination.

I have been here in Prague about 2 months I belief. I have braved my local grocery store, a huge modern glass mall some distance from my apartment, the 'mom and pops' along my exploration of this great city and yesterday, as I do many days, I elected to go out for dinner. I had no clue on what I wanted, what direction I wanted to walk in, or even if I wanted to walk. I sauntered out my front door, down the stairs, opened the front door of the building, stepping into the cool breeze of the evening around 7 pm, appropriately dressed for once. I sniffed the air, took some deep breaths, smiled, turned right, walked about 20 steps to the main intersection and looked to my right. "HA!" I thought, "not today", as I snubbed the grocery store sign calling to me.

A Tram happened to catch my attention out of the corner of my eyeball, and on a lark, I elected to take it south, knowing somewhere along the way there must be some food establishment that would catch my interest. I hopped on, sat down, moving with its rhythm, the quiet humdrum of people’s conversations mixing with the sounds of the slow moving Tram; shrouding the small neighborhoods as they moved passed my nose pressed to the window. Nothing caught my attention.

One main stop, about 4 stops later, was called Palac Flora. The lit architecture cast a somewhat surreal light on its surrounding and while it did not look like a mall, it appeared it was some sort of gathering place. It had an IMAX theater sign, and of all things, a sign that said: “Sbarro”. I recognized that brand. Who would have thought that an American Italian chain would be here, in Prague? Why was I surprised? I should not have been; they have McDonalds and Starbucks. Having seen nothing of food worthiness along my delightful Tram ride, I hopped off the Tram, crossed the street and entered this structure.

Well, one of the greatest things in Prague, and I am sure in the general Czech Republic, is the country’s ability to take modernism as well as capitalism and incorporate it into existing older or historical structures. This was not different. It was a mall. I froze in my tracks, with I am sure, a pursed lips look on my face. But I was hungry. I braced myself, took a deep breath and walked in. I scanned my surroundings, made note of the fact there were more than 2 floors, with the top floor appearing to be the food court. The escalators appeared to be at the other end of this entrance I was pulled in, and knowing I needed to find sustenance, well, I had to walk through this whole shopping cave. I am brave, I am good, I hate shopping but I can see, arrive and conquer. On I walked towards the escalators.

Well peoples, it was a lost cause. As I moved along, I saw the most delicious desserts displayed in cafes, I passed a Mozart Chocolataire, a pet store, a locally sewn bed linen store, a decorative store with local wares, many major clothing brand stores, a beauty salon, and the list goes on and on. In many ways it was just like an American Mall, but rather than being long, and spread out, it was high; a total of 5 floors. I winded up exploring every floor, with eventually eating at the food court in a restaurant called “Detaillo”. The pizza was great, the Pepsi less carbonated and more full flavored, perfection in other words, and I sat there looking out over the rail onto the shopping and all the people laughing, having fun, and obviously enjoying their little mall nestled in a historical building that gives no clue as to what treasures may lay inside.

It is getting cold outside here in Prague. The side walk cafes have removed their temporary wood decks and the doors are closed against the winds and cold, instead of being propped open. While I shall miss the outdoor cafes until the spring, last night I found a historical place to sit, avail myself of all the unique food or beverages in the handful of cafes and dessert bars as I watch people pass by, enjoying the warm social atmosphere of a neighborhood mall. Me, Prague, and a mall …who would have thunk it? Not me.

AT ]]> AT http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=500 http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=501 Wed, 01 Oct 2008 20:09:00 GMT … I do not feel like it; I am in pain, I have a headache, I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow” … so goes the exclamations by many a Femme when the Butch wants to get laid. Somehow a retort of ‘but you don’t have a dental appointment, do you?” is not advisable unless you wish to be smacked that... … I do not feel like it; I am in pain, I have a headache, I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow” … so goes the exclamations by many a Femme when the Butch wants to get laid. Somehow a retort of ‘but you don’t have a dental appointment, do you?” is not advisable unless you wish to be smacked that day. Motrin would be my answer; Motrin the ever perfect companion to your many ills.

Motrin makes my high and that is why I do not take it unless I have 1) some severe pain that makes me gnaw on furniture (rare) or 2) I have Bloody Mary visiting. Mary showed up on my fleshy door a few days ago, right on schedule, knocking at my panties, not finding a response from me, leaving a trail to let me know she was to be paid attention to for a week. I do the usual … I dig out my plugs and pads since I never know what may work based on my activity levels, I send out smoke signals to all people that even remotely come in contact with me (in case she brings an attitude, never has, but heck, who knows), and I hunt down powder and pill casings to make Motrin.

Bloody Mary and I go way back, and I mean way back. Her first scary appearance threw me for a loop at 11 but my mother, in her infinite wisdom, informed that I was not dying of internal goblets slicing me to pieces, but rather that now I have entered the world of womanhood. What that actually meant I had no clue about, but my mother and I had a great relationship, so I counted on her explaining this mystery to me. And she did.

The years passed, Bloody Mary and I forming a sort of love and hate relationship. I despised her visits in my youth, until she stopped coming in my early 20s. The sperm had taken and I was going to be a mother, a choice that I knew would change my life considering I was going it alone, but still, I was going to be a mother. It was a joyous day but I was glad when she returned, informing me all is well in the world. We traveled the globe, explored different products together, Bloody Mary never giving me any trouble, just kind of being there, quietly arriving, quietly leaving, always with the intend to return.

Some 10 years ago, I do not recall when exactly, Bloody Mary threw me for another loop. She came attached with some emotions, or rather, feelings of sorts, a bit unusual considering her quiet comings and goings, or perhaps it was just my own awareness that allowed me to hear Bloody Mary clearer as I got older. I deciphered what the message was and to say the least, I gasped. Now granted, it was not that far of a leap but still, really? No way I said to myself (and her), but ok, we will see I said.

It took me another few years to get to a point where I would listen to her message for me when she arrived for a week. It was a great evening too. I had just hooked up with a Butch for sex; dancing, hot, sweaty, me high on Motrin and ‘sex about to commence’, hym high on sexual lava flowing all night. I was all ready to show hym the time of hys life when hy reached between my legs, paused, pulled back and reached for a cigarette while slowly sitting up in the hotel bed. My body remained pretty much stationary … I did not have to ask. I knew Mary was on her way, I just did not know the exact date and time.

Well, daring as I am, I quietly spoke into the dark hotel room that was illuminated by moon through the open curtains. I let hym know that I do not have an issue with it, hoping somehow hy would not either. “No, let’s call it a night … I have to get up early tomorrow” was the response. It was new to me, somehow embracing the heightened sexual awareness of my body during Mary’s visit, and it was certainly my first attempt to incorporate it into a sexual dalliance, so I fully understood why hy responded in the manner hy did. I am not sure if *I* would have been able to actually engage.

The moment had passed. I got up, turned on the light, proceeded to the bathroom to get cleaned (toilette paper working as a pad until I would get home). I left the hotel room silently, no words ever needing to be spoken, and I never saw hym again. In many ways I am grateful to hym, the one whose name I do not recall, and who is nothing but a fuzzy Butch memory in the crevices of my mind. Hy “no” let me to evaluate my own sexuality during my monthly visit from Mary and suffice to say …. Oh my.

Not many a Butch will engage on this level during sex. Since having discovered my propensity to be as horny as a goat when Mary is about, I belief I have dallied perhaps twice while flinging a bloody tea bag across some Butch shoulder .... duck darlink ... to smack against the wall and slide forgotten out of sight.

“Yes, Mary, I am coming!!!!!!!!! - oppps …. Time for some Motrin. *chuckles*

AT ]]> AT http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=501 http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=497 Tue, 23 Sep 2008 01:23:06 GMT I cooked yesterday. You say what? I can hear it from across the oceans .. yes yes, dear community of culinary experts, I cooked, in a foreign country no less. Going shopping, grocery shopping in specific, involves a heavy does of daring in Prague. Not because the food is that far out of my range... I cooked yesterday. You say what? I can hear it from across the oceans .. yes yes, dear community of culinary experts, I cooked, in a foreign country no less.

Going shopping, grocery shopping in specific, involves a heavy does of daring in Prague. Not because the food is that far out of my range of recognition (I am German, and its close enough), but I can't READ Czech. Since being here I bought cottage cheese for my coffee instead of half and half, I purchased powdered sugar when I needed regular cane sugar and lets not even talk about cow milk vs. goat milk.

Being that I cannot read the labels most days, I go by feel, and yes, by picture association. If it’s not clear, I look at the label to see if I can recognize any words at all that would hint at the mystery inside, such as milk/mléko, chocolate/čokoláda, pepper/pepř, you get the drift. Of course, this "feel and tell" is a 50/50 shot as you can see from the above, but yesterday I decided I wanted Spaghetti.

I hopped on the Prague Metro, and upon arriving at the Andel Mall, the spaghetti were easy to recognize at one of the local grocery stores called Tesco. Pasta in a long clear package. The word "špagety" was sort of a give away, but lets not assume anything right? 'Looks' people, gotta go by 'looks' *smile*. Next I needed a sauce.

I usually make my own but here I have no clue how to get the ingredients yet without winding up with fire breathing out my nose because I used chili powder in my sauce, so I was looking for a base to start with. I saw tomatos/rajčata (yes, they look the same here in the produce section), a glass jar that said Bolognese (I know that somehow this is meaty tomato something) and all I needed was some oregano (sůl and pepř I have), some fresh garlic/česnek (also easy to spot) and I was set. I grabbed some green salad on the way out and what looked like a 'frenchy looking dressing', some fresh baguette readily available in the bakery section, and off I skipped to my apartment, yodeling Venice tunes.

I arrived at the apartment to wiggling tails and wet tongues (oh how I love them dogs of mine) and dashed to the kitchen to create magic. Thankfully I had no mishaps for once, winded up cooking way too much, still, I have to say, I am proud of myself. I was able to produce a spaghetti dinner in Prague, one close enough to pass as a spaghetti dinner in the US. Bon Appetite!

Pictures of Andel Metro, Andel Plaza (and my cooking) can be found here on Flickr

AT

Ref:
Escalator picture at Andel (not taken by me) ]]> AT http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=497 http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=496 Sat, 20 Sep 2008 23:14:32 GMT Stretching like a lazy cat amidst the warmth of my sheets left me wondering why I should bother to get up today. Never mind I have two puppies that lick my face when their bladders need emptying; I can always get carpet/wood floor cleaner my sleepy mind told me this morning, but ok, I did get up.... Stretching like a lazy cat amidst the warmth of my sheets left me wondering why I should bother to get up today. Never mind I have two puppies that lick my face when their bladders need emptying; I can always get carpet/wood floor cleaner my sleepy mind told me this morning, but ok, I did get up. At least to avoid nauseating odors from seeping down to the neighbors on the 1st floor (I think it’s the first floor) and thereby hopefully also avoiding the verbal assaults by Czech Grandmas’ speaking no English, wanting to take me to task for poor puppy care.

My apartment in Prague is on the 2nd floor, which is actually incorrect in that you have the street level, then steps leading up to the ground floor, with more steps leading upward, so in essence I live on the 4th floor. The building has an elevator, a funky contraption added outside the back of the building within the last 10 years or less, stopping between floors, which puts me between 2nd and 3rd floor. No wonder when I finally do get up to take the puppies for their ritual daily, I am always confused in what direction to proceed, in addition to being half asleep.

The weather has been delightful brisk of late. In my haze, at the junction of being yanked out of slumber by wet tongues and looking in the mirror gasping at my hairs standing up from pillow mating, I noticed my perky nipples, recalled just in time that the weather has been in the low 50s to high 40s, self preservation making me reach for my jacket.

To take the puppies out, I need a few things.

If I plan on walking them, I need their walking harnesses (being a small breed calls for not yanking them by the neck, German grip and all), the leashes, a poop bag, something to cover my hand with for scooping, my keys, my cell phone, shoes for walking, a jacket as mentioned above, and of course, clothes on.

If I plan on taking them down to the wild grassy courtyard instead, I need less; I can go in socks and need no harnesses and leashes. So here I have to decide every day, every 4 hours at a minimum, which is less of a trek and more of a 'puppies, lets go potties' call to arms. Most days, especially in the morning, the walk in socks wins out.

So this morning, a sock event it was going to be, I had decided that before I had to chart a course at the front door. I had everything: Clothes on, jacket, a poop bag, a small plastic bag to cover my hands for scooping, my keys, my cell phone, my long hair in some resemblance of normalcy tickling and annoying me (the missing hairs not noticeable), and of course...socks on.

I opened the door, we sauntered down the staircase to the ground floor, I unlocked and opened the back door, the puppies dashing out with glee into the briskness, heading for the grassy parts, doing what must be done. And me? I stood there like I had been hit by a freezing 4x4 out of Alaska, big doe eyes blinking ..... similar to when the headlights of a car scan the forest and find nature's perfection silhouetted against the roughness of the tree's bark...shivering like I have not shivered in Prague before

I was puzzled at my freezing state, truly I was. I had a jacket on, a shirt, socks but wait .... geezzz ..... do you know Larry the cable Guy? The Comedian? He sells clothing and since I love his humor, I own a few items of his for sleeping purposes, i.e. pajamas.

Here I was standing dressed in a heavy shirt, a jacket, my long hair covering my neck to keep out the kiss of the wind, heavy sock ... and with flimsy boxer like shorts that let in the breeze like a vengeance. I can’t recall what the writing says on them ... but somehow it reminded me of "here is your sign".

The puppies ignored my whining to come back to me, pee and poop taking priority over my goosybumps, the hallway unforgiving with its concrete coolness behind me. Crap I thought, might as well just sit on the steps right there and freeze my tush off too since everything else will fall off anyway. No wonder the building’s Grandmas look at me with suspicion daily, shake their heads collectively over coffee klatches I am certain, moving past my ‘dobre dens’ with a painful smile. I shall win them over, eventually, Larry or no Larry.

Somewhere between the US and Prague I turned from a common sense individual into a haphazard bohemian acting like I was just now starting to live life. Did I tell you that I love Prague? I do, I actually do.

With freezing love, from Prague.

AT ]]> AT http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=496 http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=494 Fri, 19 Sep 2008 13:50:48 GMT Today, in my infinite wisdom, I elected to trim my Venus valley. I am 43, used to trimming willie nelson when it gets too close to the knee caps in all sort of locations and time zones, so the whole affair should have been nothing but a ‘zoom zoom and voila’. Frolicking about Europe requires a... Today, in my infinite wisdom, I elected to trim my Venus valley. I am 43, used to trimming willie nelson when it gets too close to the knee caps in all sort of locations and time zones, so the whole affair should have been nothing but a ‘zoom zoom and voila’.

Frolicking about Europe requires a unique approach to electric appliances. First and foremost, the current is different ... so any items from the US requiring some sort of jolts to get going are of no use unless a converter is used. Rather than packing US appliances (beaver shavers in this case), I left them behind in some garbage dump and purchased a solid ‘manly’ one here.

Secondly, forgoing dainty ones since I despise pink (which seems to be the only color available), my newly acquired manly buzzer sits a bit funkily in my palm, my fingers not as nimble around the masculine handle, but ok I think, I know how to manipulate a silicone pleasure rod, THIS thing should not require a scientific application of usage.

Here also, in the midst of Prague city, the older apartments separate the actual toilet room from the bathroom, and I was faced with a choice … dare to meet willie nelson head on in the small room spouting the porcelain dish designed to carry my bodily wastes to places unknown, or the more roomy Jacuzzi spouting steamy place to get lost in.

I felt brave today, or rather lazy, and elected to go abuzzing in the smallest room in the place. I reasoned that if I use the toilet, I would have less to clean up in case hair flew everywhere.

Pants down around my ankles, one leg on the floor, one leg hiked and the sounds of electricity assaulted my ears as I slid the 'on' button to .. on.

My grip on this vibrating domalagiger was firm, my head bent to see where I was going to start, as my freshly washed and long hair fanned around me. With care, since I had yet to assess the strength of this moving object in my hand, I angled in for the kill when fate elected to intervene, the hair on my head apparently being longer than willie nelson and both the buzzer and may fanning hair elected to dance to a tune I certainly did not hear, or appreciate.

Forgotten was willie nelson, pushed aside was my haphazard attempt at a safe stance as the toilet hoped to swallow me whole. I winded up on the floor, a few hairs shorter on my head, willie nelson exposed to the world, saying small thank you’s that my door was closed so my two puppies whining at the door could not come to sniff out the issue.

I was able to get up, pull up my pants and open the door to reassure them I was fine, but I came to the conclusion that meeting willie nelson in a small room was not the way to go in the future and perhaps cleaning up a bigger room after mowing fields would be in my best physical interest.

With love, and with a few missing hairs, from Prague,

AT ]]> AT http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=494 http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=493 Wed, 17 Sep 2008 15:06:49 GMT This is a prayer of sorts, just something on my mind and I've been thinking about it awhile now and wanted to write it down to remind myself one of the big reasons I am put on this earth....

Help me remember my patients and why I was choosen to become a nurse. I didn't choose it, it chose me and it was what I was when I was born and I've always known it.

Help me to not get "caught up in" the politics of hospitals, doctors, insurance companies and soothing egos of my co-workers.

Help me remember to touch people, physically and emotionally when they are sick and needing someone to lean on. Not with medication and treatments alone, but with dignity and love and nurturing that they so need, that everyone needs.

Help me remember to listen and not just throw my profession at them in an uncaring way.

Help me to remember that when I touch a hand of an older adult, that I do so with respect and take time to notice the lines in the hands. Those hands that have washed many clothes, diapered babies, cleaned and cooked for their families, worked long and hard for enough money to feed their own and who may have served their country to keep us safe out of love to mankind. Those hands who have offered comfort to other people throughout a lifetime, as I try and offer comfort now.

Help me remember they are people with lives and family and they are someone's mom, dad, sister, grandma, grandpa and so on, and not just a patient in "room 32".

Help me be the nurse I was born to be and continue helping to heal and comfort those that have crossed my path in this life and who I am grateful and honored to serve.

Just help me remember... ]]> PrincessBelle http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=493 http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=492 Tue, 16 Sep 2008 20:36:39 GMT Life in Prague is no different than if one would live in downtown NYC or in the middle of Berlin. I actually live in the city center of Prague, get around by foot or public transportation, developing killer legs (not that I did not already have them) and loosing weight (165 down to 155 at 5'7), not a bad thing all around, but yes, its a tad different. Art is well represented, and I attend the opera or some jazz concert on a regular basis. I have not braved a Czech movie yet, but I plan on doing so soon.

My current favorite pastime is taking my laptop to any of the million cafe's and write as I watch people from all walks of life pass by. My formalized education is again back in full force - Ethics and the Legal Environment this time around - (4.0 still - high five to the Femme over yonder) and my gender study work is just delightfully unique in a society that wishes to change but has its roots heavily tied in traditionalism.

From a gender perspective, it is still a very traditional society, as mentioned above, which is good and bad (depending on who you would ask). Kids, teenagers and men (I have yet to see a random Butch here do so) get up for me when I get on the tram or subway so I can have a seat, they hold open doors, and extend a hand so I can exit safely, and at restaurants they pull chairs. On the negative side, it is not me they talk to in restaurants if I am with a male from work, it is not I that gets the check even though I may be paying; and if anything serious needs to be handled (finances, deliveries, etc.) they seem to be looking for a husband but not finding any, do proceed to deal with me, a puzzle crossing their brow. It is all changing slowly of course and thankfully I am secure enough (and have nothing to proof) so the whole gender lopsidedness just makes me smile. And ... I use it to my advantage. How does the saying go? If you cannot beat it, use it to manipulate.

The food is very rustic in that is has a lot of German and Bohemian influences, i.e. heavy and flavorful; no light or dainty foods for the most part, but sushi and salads are gathering some momentum here, and scrumptious they are.

Language wise I am having a ball. The Czech language has many funky symbols and I refuse to attend a class or open a book to learn it. Instead I throw myself out there among the masses daily and use fingers,
mispronunciations and smiles to communicate, and learn the language in the process. All people here have been nothing but helpful to educate me in the right ways of saying things *chuckles*. While the lack of language on my part results in many mistakes in many areas, I wind up laughing so hard that it just turns it all into a great adventure.

This exploration (Recent Picture) coupled with fun makes my time management an issue and I belief the last time I was in Second Life, my favorite social platform before the trek to Europe, was ... mmmm .. I do not recall. I do not miss it although I am sure I will be in Second Life again, once I get everything routinized. And .. being known as the most non-hugging Femme on the planet, I am proud to announce that as far as hugging goes the Czech people are as non-huggy as the Germans are - HA! I knew that I was not the only human that sprang from a non-hugging society.

~waving from the cobblestones of Prague, I shall remain,~

AT ]]> AT http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=492 http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=491 Tue, 16 Sep 2008 08:59:30 GMT This evening something very different happened to me. I will hope. I want to believe. For whatever reason, it happened to me. For some this is nothing but babbling but for me, it is my hope. This evening something very different happened to me. I will hope. I want to believe. For whatever reason, it happened to me. For some this is nothing but babbling but for me, it is my hope. ]]> Greyson http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=491 http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=490 Sun, 14 Sep 2008 20:23:33 GMT Wow I really get to blog??? how cool is that. I suppose this is for me and anyone that cares to see what's on my mind huh...lol.

Well today has been quiet wonderful. I talked to friends and one even sent this upgrade as a gift to me, how cool is that!!

I am getting ready to go the fair and eat cotton candy and win a pink flamingo and when the sun goes down, i can watch the sparkling lights of the rides and day dream of love..........yeah cool huh.

Can't wait to see the fireworks, they are so amazing and i feel just like a kid and clap my hands so hard for them. Oh and I'm getting stronger every day....thanks to each of Y/you that have and are helping me. Hugs and wonderful soft southern kisses to Y/you.

Yipee my first blog, i'm so excited!!!

Have a wonderful sunshine day!!! ]]> PrincessBelle http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=490 http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=489 Fri, 12 Sep 2008 21:00:43 GMT So, my girl and I have been together for about 16 months now. It's been long distance the whole time - about 4 hours apart. I recently started a 1-year internship, which is the last step in getting my Ph.D. We had just figured that as soon as I finished my degree then I would move to her neck of the woods...

So a few weeks ago she decided that she needed to get a new job. She likes what she does, but wanted to get away from the drama at her office. We talked about it, and decided that she should look for jobs here as well as where she is...

I think she did apply for one job where she is now. But she is really focusing on here - basically, we've both decided that we want our relationship to go "to the next level", we're both sick to death of the long distance, and we really believe we're at a place where this would be a good move for us. So...

She had an interview yesterday that she thinks went really well. We'll find out on Monday. If she gets it, then she will move here in two weeks and start working on Oct. 1. If she doesn't get it, she's already got a lead on another position here and she'll follow up on it...

I am one damn happy Butch Daddy... ]]> butchgorilla http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=489 http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=488 Thu, 11 Sep 2008 22:06:08 GMT *one thing I have always hated is taking pictures...I have always had a serious issue with my face..lol..never have liked it totally...went through a horrible ugly stage in junior high and well you know kids are brutal...and I guess since then I have been kinda scarred...its silly but nonetheless... one thing I have always hated is taking pictures...I have always had a serious issue with my face..lol..never have liked it totally...went through a horrible ugly stage in junior high and well you know kids are brutal...and I guess since then I have been kinda scarred...its silly but nonetheless painful...so I bought a cool cell phone...and have been taking lots of pics of myself...and really am surprised...cause I look better than I thought...though I know how you see yourself may not be the same way that others see you...but anyway..I am tired of my phobia..so bf is gonna be my lab....gonna post pics till I am sick...and hopefully nobody will be too cruel...this is self therapy folks..;)...and yea I have been told that I am handsome cute whatever..lol blah blah...but something deep keeps doubting nice comments...we are so messed up in this world..ya know?...and I am know different though..I love hot women...and sometimes hate myself for it...lol..we are so much more than this cavity we live it... ]]> sweetboi2 http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=488 http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=487 Thu, 11 Sep 2008 08:19:19 GMT It's 1 AM and I cannot sleep. The memories are swirling around in my head. This country has been through 7 years of George Bush and it is still not over. We are now at war in Iraq, not just Afganstastan. Have we found Bin Laden? No. I remember there was the gay guy one of the heros on one of the doomed flights. He died fighting and being a hero. What about the people who were scared out of their wits and could not utter a sound? They knew they were about to die and would never see their loved ones again. My heart goes out to all of you. May I never live my life in vain and ignorance. In memory of all the good people and search animals who lost their lives in this human tragedy.(f) ]]> Greyson http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=487 http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=486 Tue, 09 Sep 2008 13:38:54 GMT
My Mama and sister are leaving in the morning for a 3 week cross country drive.
I took my Mom's car to Midas for a check-up and to get a battery. Afterwards, the guy drove it in front of the door for me. I got in and couldn't get it into gear. (Sometimes it is hard and I have to use the palm of my left hand to push in the knob whilst pushing with my other hand). I pushed and pushed and the damn thing wouldn't budge so I asked the mechanic to help me. He told me that I had to press the brake. I informed him I was. He tried to get it in gear and he could not either.
Then he looked at me and said, "Ma'am you have to turn on the car in order for it to go into gear" and winked at me .. Well, you know I do know that. I do. I have been driving for over 20 years however, I am use to my car. It lets me know when it is on. It rumbles and shakes a little. There is no doubt in my mind when my car is running but my Mama has a new car. It is quiet. It drives smoothly. I am not use to it. When I drive it it feels as if I am floating. I can actually have a conversation in her car without having the other party yell. It is nice but it kind of makes me uncomfortable. Silly I know. I am just use to my noisy little car, I guess.

So, thinking about this car situation got me to thinking about relationships and how they are similar. Often times we are so use to ruckus in our relationships .. drama and chaos that when we find a mature, evolved, drama free partner we are not sure how to communicate. We are not sure how to communicate on the most basic level. We become accustomed to certain behaviors and eventually that becomes our comfort zone. We would rather be in an unhealthy relationship because we know how to function than be in a healthy one.

I don't know where I am going with this just giving you a moment in the complex world of Lilyland.

namaste my friends ]]> CalypsoTheNymph http://www.butch-femme.com/portal/forums/blog.php?b=486