jenpet, for March Question Month, asked:

• If you could live anywhere in the world, (with no worries about income – ya know, the ultimate pipedream), where would you and Melen really like to live?

I want to live in Ireland.  Or the perfect Ireland replica with my own laws.  That would be cool.

M… M says He wants to live on the Lost island minus the time jumps and smoke monsters.  O.o

Dweaver asked:

• What’s your most/least favorite pain toy when it’s used on you?

My most and least favorite are the same thing.  The Delrin Cane.  I’m not really sure what’s wrong with me, but there it is.

• Have you ever done electric play of any kind? If so, what did you think about it? If not, do you want to at some point?

If, by electric play, you mean standing in a puddle whilst unplugging a refrigerator that’s spewing coolant and having “lightning” shoot from the corner of your eye to the back of said fridge, then yes.  I’ve done electric play.  If not, then I guess the answer must be no.  ~ducks~

I’m kinda intrigued and a little scared at the same time.  I mean, that shock I got? While it didn’t really hurt, per se, it was rather weird feeling.  That feeling intentionally? I’m not sure.  The jury’s still out.

• What celeb do you fantasize the most about Melen lending you to, and how does he or she use you in your thoughts?

I dunno.  That’s a serious toss up.  I mean, on the one hand, Greg Grunberg is that “every day Joe” kind of beautiful and I would just die for him to even notice me, much less borrow me from M.  On the other hand, Christian Bale is Ken doll beautiful in that “American Psycho” kinda way (I guess that makes sense since he starred in that movie.) and just picturing his face makes me wet my panties.

And then there’s Kevin Smith.  Ahhh… Kevin Smith.

I’m such a weirdo.  Aren’t girls supposed to be creaming their panties over, like… Tom Cruise or something?

Anyway… I’m not very creative in the use.  Usually I play the trophy girl for a little while, and then I have my face ground into what I really am: a fuck toy.  And boys can do whatever they want with their fuck toys.  Can you imagine what those boys would want to do with theirs? Mmm….

Standard procedure in most addiction treatment centers or mental health units is to have the patients use some art medium to create a self-portrait or show how they’re feeling.  In the year and a half that the ATCs and MHUs were a revolving door for me, I made no less than six self-portraits and twenty-two drawings and paintings showing how I felt.  Some were more extravagant than others.  Some more confused.  And you can definitely tell where my mind was when I did them.

I only kept one.  I’m not sure where it is, now.  Probably in a box somewhere, if I didn’t throw it away when we moved this last time.  “The rapist” told us to draw a picture showing who we are.  And almost nine years later, what I drew is still ridiculously fresh in my mind.

First, I drew an outline of some random chick’s head.  And for some reason, I cut her completely in half.  Not with a line or a pair of scissors.  Just with the way I drew her.

On one side, she looked mostly normal.  Scattered among the facial features were a few flaws: A gun, some pills, a tangled mess of an accident.  But she had normal hair the same color as mine, a big blue eye and half a nose.

“The rapist” asked me what kind of mouth I was going to give her.  And I shrugged before drawing half a mouth showing no expression and then a broken heart on the other side.  I drew headstones for her other eye with tears and blood falling from them.

I drew snakes coming out the other half of her head.  Four living babies and two dead, some boxing gloves, a couple bottles of booze.  A couple joints, a pack of cigarettes and… I remember drawing this ginormous red circle with a line through it over something.  But I don’t remember what it was.

I’ve been through a lot of shit in my life and couldn’t fit it all on one piece of poster board.  So I drew what felt important.  Then I sat back and stared at it for a moment.  And I wondered if this really was who I am.   Read more…