For the last week I have been batching it, which means I'm dressed up as long as I don't have to take the dog for a walk. Mostly I sit in my recliner and read, which usually invites one of the cats to curl up above my pot belly and snooze. However, when I'm wearing my bra and inserts their perch is no longer available. No way am I going to let those sharp claws rest on my gel-filled inserts.
Lately I have noticed several stories with "AI assist" in the description. Sorry folks, but I will NOT read any story that uses AI. By its very definition, AI is derivative and not original. I want to read material from real people with real ideas, not regurgitated pap.
Please! If you're going to post your stories, make them your stories. That's what being an artist is all about.
Good thing I'm not a "real" man. I recently discovered Jacques Pepan's cooking videos and decided to try his quiche recipe. Came out delicious, but that silly tagline keeps running through my head.
I seldom wake up rembering my dreams, but this morning I woke up from an argument with a red headed, asshole boss in an office setting. After a few minutes I realized the redhead was an adult version of the photo I used for Lucy in The Elliptical Path. Good thing I'm not planning a sequel, I will hate to see my character turn into an asshole.
While doing the wash, my wife picked up my new bra and grumped that I had nicer bras than she did. It was my first underwire style and closed in the front, an experiment for me. (The experiment has been a success.) She said she wouldn't mind one in that color for herself. So what could I do besides log into Amazon and get her one in black and one in rose?
I have tried gluing on my breast forms a couple of times recently. It seems so simple in the stories I've read - and written. Instant gratification and a shapely figure, works every time! Not for me, within a few hours the darn things come loose leaving red, irritated skin patches that are painful and take a week or more to heal. I just figured I had a problem with the glue.
Spent a long and interesting day at the Texas legislature. Bigots in the Leg have piled on to the Red State Hate Wagon and are preparing to pass a law to prohibit treating trans kids and making any doctor who did a felon. My wife and I simply had to be there to protest.
I've never been a fan of dancing or cheerleading, but circumstances conspired to have me at a dance show for a local high school. It happened like this: my daughter (now in her mid-forties) just got a job working at the high school as a restorative justice counselor, where she meets a whole lot of the students. The cheer squad was planning a big show on stage, and when some of them found out she had been a professional dancer in her youth they talked her into performing with them. In my totally unbiased opinion she did them proud, as a mature woman she still has the chops.
So last night the wife and I had dinner out - not all that unusual. As we were leaving, a guy held the door for me, then complimented me on my shirt and earrings.
Folks, in real life I'm a very large, fat old man with a full, gray beard. Could I possibly been reverse-read? Did he somehow see my inner woman?
One of my grandsons has just come out as a new granddaughter. Not that I am overly surprised, but living 2,000 miles apart we don't see each other very much. If there is anyone in the Buffalo NY area that can recommend a good therapist, I would be much obliged. Please PM me if you can help.
It looks like the start of an interesting journey.
I know, I know! Hot buttons and controversy, but there's more. I have been a long time admirer of Mrs Betty Bowers - who bills herself as AMERICA'S BEST CHRISTIAN. A satirical wonder, happily skewering hypocrisy in its many guises.
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