Nothing feels good right now. I don’t feel safe. Food tastes like crap. My sleep is light and fitful. The keyboard on my phone is an asshole. I have a fever. I’m still in a “show hole” Amazon.  And my cat is comfortable under my knees but my back is a fucker. This Bitch is miserable.  So what the shit else is new, right? Right. And then there’s that. My brain is still broken. Great. Fuck.

So,what should we talk about? The weather? Politics? Mass shootings? Guns? Murder? I tried to post something lovely…pictures of the beach. Don’t think this Bitch didn’t notice the chilly reception they received, either. It’s whatever. It stung a little bit,  but it’s fine. No, really, it is. I liked them and that’s really all that mattered anyway. I just couldn’t make up my mind about whether to jump headfirst into something gritty and topical, or not. I chose the latter. Not sorry. NOT. SORRY. If I don’t focus on something other than rapid fire reload death and/or bloody murder, I’m gonna throw myself into the void. And the world would probably be better for it, except my cats would starve and I can’t have that now.

Let’s talk about something interesting. Let’s talk about vaginas. Oooooh. Yes. Let’s. Not mine in particular because, you see, she IS a high society, dressed in leather and pearls BITCH who knows how to keep a mother fuckin’ secret. But others are fair game. I read on Twitter where a woman said she votes with her vagina. NICE! Politico pussy. I also read on Facebook another woman pleasured hers too much and now she’s in therapy. THERAPY! Ha!  Oh, to be burdened with that greener grass. Or should I say, that pinker pussy. The Secret Life of Vaginas. Now there’s a movie! Hey, name a movie title and replace one word of the title with  “Vagina”


Oooh, ooh! I’ll go first! And my prior contribution doesn’t count.

“The American Vagina” was “The American President”

Don’t leave me hanging. Help a Bitch out.


It’s alright for goodness sakes


It’s okay to love beautiful underwear, even if you are the only one to see it.
It’s okay to love being undressed with a man’s eyes before his fingers ever touch my skin.
It’s okay to love the weight of a man; holding his presence and making damn sure I know I am his. For now. For the night. Forever.
It’s okay to love seduction. Not games that end in fucking, but real seduction that starts with the mind and leaves me ready…and secretly begging.
It’s okay to beg.
It’s okay to like the occasional vulgarity.
It’s okay to say, “Use your teeth. Slap my ass. God that feels good. Take me from behind.”
It’s okay to be a real lady.
It’s okay that real ladies like sex.
It’s okay to be embarrassed sometimes.
It’s okay to be aroused by flushed cheeks.


It’s okay to imagine your body in black and white and sepia.
It’s okay to celebrate it in color.


It’s okay to embrace. Your desires. Your body. His body. And hers.
It’s okay to be shy.
It’s okay to not know what to say.
It’s okay to not know what you want.
It’s okay to experiment. To explore. To give in. To let go.
For goodness sakes. It’s alright.