My Stuff is Gone
June 13, 2008
Well, the movers just left with my stuff, headed to San Francisco. They packed everything carefully, and it only took them about an hour to get everything done, including all of the paperwork.
I expect we’ll be leaving around 5AM or so tomorrow morning, if I can drag my dumb ass out of bed that early. 
The Training of Alexa
June 12, 2008
Over at Nina’s place this morning, she wrote regarding an article in the NYT about how women react and respond to sex and sexuality, in particular how they react to erotica and porn.
In it, she writes:
Curiously – women responded to watching not just straight sex, but also men having sex with men, and most significantly, women with other women, and the key trigger tended to be the intensity of the action. So in other words – the hotter the action, the more aroused the women became, which tends to follow my own experience there too.
I enjoy watching porn – to a point. It isn’t something I seek out, but it isn’t something I consider gross or a turn off either. I’ve often been turned on by porn; and usually, the more out on the fringes it was, especially in terms of BDSM or D/s – the more aroused I’d get. I would tend to visualize myself in the scenes I was watching, sometimes pulling feelings and memories from my own experiences, and the more I was able to visualize those things in my own mind, the more aroused I’d become. I don’t know that this is by any means a universal kind of response. Men and women process sexual stimulation entirely differently – or so we thought – maybe we really don’t?
Actually, it is more common than she might imagine. I will freely admit that I, too, get majorly aroused watching BDSM porn. The harder it is, the more aroused I become.
If you’re not familiar with the web sites run by Kink.com, you are truly missing out on porn, especially if you have any kind of interest in BDSM, even on a basal level. One in particular has caught my attention over the past few weeks, The Training of O. If you are not familiar with it, the web site’s basic premise is the training of a female to become a sexually submissive slave. The concept for the web site is based loosely around the infamous novel, The Story of O, by Pauline Reage.
The training takes place over the course of a week and, to the uninitiated, it might seem brutal, 
misogynistic, and degrading. I’ve even known people to become physically sick while watching the videos. The women are subjected to a variety of physical and psychological encounters that are designed to break their spirit and make them become submissive sex slaves for a Dom, or master. Of course, the reality is that it is porn, and therefore the basic premise of it is acted. The kicker in this case is that the women are actually beaten, flogged, caned, slapped, and brutally fucked throughout the entire week. They’re forced to assume painful physical positions and perform sexual services while they are abused. They are tortured with nipple clamps, forced orgasms, and endure a variety of other physical bondage scenarios.
All of the subs (submissives) in training record a video “journal” at the end of each day wherein they recount what they went though that day, how they felt during and after the sessions, what they learned, and what they think might be upcoming for them based on what their trainer has taught them during any given session. During many of those videos, you can see the bruises, welts and other marks left by the whips, flogs and other devices used on them during the training.
And, lest you think the women are coerced or forced into performing, Kink includes recordings of their consent at the beginning of each video and at the end where the model state explicitly that she consents to what is going to take place, that she’s aware of the safewords, and that she’s ready to go. Kink has perhaps the best reputation of any of the fetish porn producers, with a statement of values, a statement of model’s rights, and a statement of director’s shooting rules that guide their productions. I’ve exchanged e-mails with a couple of the women who’ve participated in their shoots, and both have nothing but positive things to say about their experience and the people at Kink.
I say all of this because, I, too, could and have projected myself into the models while watching those videos. I admit that I enjoy pain play during sex. Nikki and I often slap and bite each other during our more intense sex sessions. In fact, I had to finally give up the ring I had in my right nipple because Nikki would often pull on it so hard that I would bleed, and more than once it became seriously inflamed. We’ve been known to slap each other in the face during sex (and I don’t mean love taps). We have a nice little paddle that leaves a big bright red mark on your ass when it is applied with any significant amount of force. And very few things get me going more than Nikki grabbing and pulling my hair while she’s grudge fucking me in the ass in a doggy position with a strap-on.
I could easily see myself participating in the kind of scenes produced for TToO. And my apartment will be exactly one mile from where Kink films its videos. Luck? Fate? Who knows?
All of this begs the question, “why?” Why would anyone, especially a woman, want to subject herself to being slapped, spit on, abused, humiliated, hurt during sex? That, my friend, has confounded a LOT of people, including a great many psychologists.
I won’t lie, there are times when I wonder why in the world I’d want someone to slap me in the face or spit in my face when I am being fucked by them. That pretty much defies any reasonable explanation, doesn’t it?
Perhaps, though, that is the basis of the conundrum. Human sexuality is not reasonable by any stretch of the imagination. As Nina and I (and many others) have said on several occasions, the largest sex organ in the human body is the brain. How we each interpret, process and respond to sexual stimuli is determined by a wide range of things, both innate and experiential. So much so that it really isn’t possible to even summarize them in a short piece like this. Who’s to say what is or isn’t reasonable to someone else, though?
There is one train of thought that much of this has to do with giving up control. People who spend a great deal of time directing and controlling things in their daily lives long for some release where they can accede “control” to someone else. By allowing someone else to take control of you and use you for the piece of meat that you are relieves you of any “responsibility” during the sex, and they assume control over you, allowing you to just give in and allow what happens to happen. Our brains allow us to derive pleasure from this in some perverse way. This all takes place deep dark places in the psyche where our innermost desires can often be found. And, then, some people just want to submit; they want to serve someone else. Or, as Nina has mentioned in the past:
This is a pure truth – however, there’s something larger at work here for me, and that’s the idea which extends beyond simply wanting to submit. For me - I want to be made to submit. That it’s the process of feeling that personal strength and will slip away and surrendering the idea of self to someone else. It’s almost like being broken – that one strong willed person can be made to completely submit and love the whole process and feelings surrounding that.
And, thus, the appeal of the scenarios in The Training of O to me. I’ve said here before that I have developed a strong desire to explore my submissive side. In every relationship I’ve been in, in just about every sexual situation I’ve been in, I have been the one in control. Or, in the case of my relationship with Nikki, it has been an egalitarian relationship. With my new line of work, I will largely be the one in control, so even with it, I generally won’t have the possibility of exploring my truly sub side (and in fact, it might even be dangerous to do so, at least initially). Putting myself in the model’s shoes while watching those videos allows me, for a brief period of time, to be made to submit. I find it very…cathartic on some level.
Then of course, there’s the pain. Why would anyone want to endure pain during sex? Sex is supposed to be about pleasure, right? Well, let’s frame it a different way. Think about jalapeños. Some people can eat them, with all of the searing pain it produces in the mouth and derive great palative pleasure from it. Others of us can’t stand eating something that makes our mouth sting, and can’t understand why someone else would. Same basic principle. Different things do different things for different people. And yes, you can quote me on that 
Pain releases all kinds of chemicals in the body, some of which heighten excitement and arousal (i.e., testosterone, adrenaline, and even endorphins). Let’s see….what other situation might one find themselves in that involves heightened states of excitement and arousal? Oh, yeah, sex! Ha! If you put the two together, for many people, the sex becomes incredibly stimulating, not just in the genitals, but across the entire body. So, maybe slapping and biting are the jalapeños of sex. Some people like it, some don’t. I know when Nikki slaps me while she’s fucking me, the hair on my arms stands on end and I get goose bumps. The sting of that slap sends a shot of lightning down my spine, right into my cunt as it is being penetrated with that cock. Talk about a feedback loop.
For many people, though, all of this would have an effect diametrically opposite to arousal. Some people just don’t get aroused by being slapped or being forced into submission. This is particularly true for people who grew up in an environment where they were forced to be compliant, such as with overly authoritarian parents, families where emotional, physical or sexual abuse was occurring, or people who’ve been raped or abused later in life. And a woman who was in an abusive or domineering relationship with a partner might likewise consider this kind of activity to be anything but arousing. Again, it all goes back to our own individual makeup and those experiential circumstances we’ve encountered that make us who we are. You have to have a strong sense of self and a pretty good dose of self esteem to be able to enjoy this kind of stuff to be sure.
And finally, there’s the subject of humiliation play. This includes things like name-calling (whore, slut, cunt, bitch), being spit on, being pissed on, being facialized, etc. As Franklin Veaux describes it, humiliation play is “…any kind of activity in which one person says or does something that causes embarrassment, shame, or humiliation in the other.” He goes on to explain that many people grow up in environments where any expression of sexuality evoked shame. As a result, shame and sexual arousal become inextricably intertwined. When you combine this with that sense of objectification that comes along with being treated like a piece of meat, the result can often be very sexually arousing (and yes, I know it’s not politically correct to enjoy being objectified). While some of it may be extreme, I think it is relatively easy to see why some women would enjoy being called a slut in the bedroom. I mean, we’ve been told all of these years that only sluts enjoy sex, and, well, we’re enjoying the sex, so we’re sluts, right? The bedroom is the one place where it is “safe” to be a slut for most women, and as long as they know it’s just play, they’ll often enjoy that kind of thing. (And a note to the guys reading this: Feel her out to see what she thinks about being called a slut in the bedroom BEFORE you do it. You don’t want the surprise you’ll be in for if she doesn’t play that).
Clearly, there is a vast untapped area of psychological research that could be done to figure out what’s behind why some people enjoy these kinds of activities. I know there are often times where I am inwardly embarrassed and disgusted by the fact that I have asked someone to spit in my face while they’re fucking me (or performing some other sex-related function with me). But I always turn to the knowledge I’ve gained through my studies, which have long since shown me that there is no such thing as “normal” when it comes to human sexuality. I just accept it and move on. If I squick someone out by requesting something they deem weird or perverse, I’ll just accommodate and move on. I don’t have the requisite knowledge, yet, to figure all of this stuff out, but I think you can tell that I am terribly interested in it, from both experiential and philosophical perspectives. I shall continue my…research.
To get back to the question I know most of you either have asked or will ask, no, I won’t do a video for The Training of O. The only reason, really, is that, years from now, those videos would surface and be used against me somehow. I mean, I am a woman, and any expression of any sexuality on my part immediately casts me in a disparaging light, right? *rolls eyes*
Anyway, I am off to download another video and fantasize about being forced to throat fuck James’ cock while my tits are being whipped with a wet leather strip. 
It’s Time for Chapter 5
June 11, 2008
This morning I am on the cusp of crossing into another chapter in my life – Chapter 4 is rapidly coming to a close. Friday morning, the movers will be here and they’ll begin loading my little collection of belongings up so they can be transported to another city, another state, another…life.
Like many other people, I tend to remember my life in “chapters” or through the use of some sort of milestones or markers when transitional events have occurred. It allows me to frame my life into segments that make it easier to comprehend how I’ve arrived at the point I am now.
The end of the first chapter of my life began when we moved from San Antonio, Texas, to Memphis, Tennessee. My father had been a colonel in the U. S. Air Force, an electronic systems specialist at Kelly Air Force Base. When he decided to separate from the service, we moved to Memphis, his ancestral home, to start “civilian life.” Up to this point, I had been home schooled in a pool with a handful of other military brats. A team of mothers (military and civilian) collectively educated us on everything from our ABCs to sound decision-making principles. When we moved to Memphis, I started 7th grade in a public school for the first time in my life. Not too long after we got there, he took a job with a major health care company in Nashville, and we relocated once again to one of that city’s more affluent suburbs. Moving twice in 18 months is pretty traumatic for anyone, but especially so for someone just entering their teens. The burgeoning relationships that I had begun forming were instantly torn from me and I had to begin anew.
The second chapter of my life is, as I see it, predicated on my blossoming sexuality and the beginning of my exploration of what made me tick sexually. This included my first boyfriend and the loss of my virginity – both of them. While my first sex with my then boyfriend was a special moment that I will always cherish, my first lesbian experience with Nikki at 15 has always been what I consider to be the single most important watershed moment in my life. It awakened me to who I truly am sexually and began a relationship that, to this day, is the most intense, most special thing to have ever happened to me. Everything I am today is largely predicated upon that experience and its aftermath. It would be hard to overstate how important and life-altering that was to me.
In the third chapter, I graduated from high school, began college, and went to work as a dancer. Graduation from high school is a critical moment for everyone, and I don’t consider mine any more or less special than anyone else’s. I went to college nearby, as did a great many of the people I knew, so there wasn’t the huge sea change for me that many people experience when they go to some far off college and begin life completely separated from those they’d been friends with in the preceding three or four years. At that point in my life, I wanted to go into some flavor of international business, traveling the world, experiencing new cultures, and rising to the top of some multi-national corporation. Wow, what a difference a couple of years can make.
Chapter four sees Nikki and I picking up all of our stuff and moving to Florida, changing schools once again, working at a new place. I wouldn’t characterize it as a spur of the moment decision, but it wasn’t too far removed from that. Over the course of a couple of months, after returning from a short sabbatical to Fort Lauderdale, we just decided that it might be good for us to move away from home and get a new start. We both liked the school we wanted to attend, knew the area, loved the culture and lifestyle of southern Florida, and knew the working environment would be much richer (figuratively and literally) for us than we were experiencing in Nashville.
It was during this period that I came to understand the role I wanted to play in life as an adult. I had spent a lot of time online in a variety of forums helping people deal with issues related to teenagedom and sexuality. As I came to realize how little people, especially young people, knew about their own bodies and how incredibly ridiculous sex education was in this country was, I reached a point where I felt that my life might best be served by finding some way to help people learn about sex. At this point, I refocused my collegiate studies toward a course that would allow me to become a sex educator. I changed my major to psychology, resulting in my having to remain in school for an additional year. Getting my undergraduate degree in psychology, though, would allow me to pursue graduate work in a field directly related to human sexuality. And that is what put me on the path I find myself on now.
Now it is time for Chapter 5, if you will. This chapter will be markedly different than anything I’ve experienced thus far. In the transitions of the previous four chapters, there was always something or someone that went through the transition with me; my parents, my sister, other friends, and, for the last two, Nikki. None of that is going to be with me this time.
I feel alone.
I feel…naked.
I’ll be in a new apartment, in a new city, in a new state, going to a new school, beginning work with a new job, and won’t have anyone I know with me to help guide me or to share and commiserate with me as I deal with the little speed bumps and road blocks I know I will encounter. I am simultaneously frightened and excited. But, to be completely truthful, I am much more anxious about this than at any other point in my life that I can recall. Not hesitant, just….anxious.
When we moved to Fort Lauderdale we had been here numerous times on vacation. I knew my way around, knew where the stores were, knew which neighborhoods to avoid, knew where the best places to eat were, and knew where to go to get the first one thing or another done. This place feels more like home to me than any other place I’ve lived.
I’ve been to San Francisco one time, for a couple of days. The city has a different aura, a different vibe, a different lifestyle than what I have been living with the past three years. I don’t have a clue where anything is yet, except for my apartment and where my classes will be held. I have to find new places to get my hair done, my waxing done, I have to find a new doctor, a new attorney. Everything, literally everything will be new.
Oh, yeah, and I know where the Golden Gate Bridge and the Pacific Ocean are! Ha!
If you’re familiar with the history of sexual progressiveness in the city, you’d suspect that I would synch up with this town nicely. And I might. But those first few tentative days and weeks I’ll be learning how to navigate around the strange city are what stand out in my mind right this second.
And I don’t think I need to explain how radical a change my new line of work will be.
As I sit here and stare at the boxes stacked up in our living room, I can’t help but wonder if, two years from now, when I get ready to move back here, I’ll be as excited about coming back as I think I will at this point. I’m pretty sure I will be, but who knows? You never know what cards life will deal you from one day to the next.
All I can do is play one hand at a time, no?
Interview with a Goddess
June 7, 2008
Nina, the Lazy Geisha, is one of my favorite bloggers. Her writing style is reminiscent of that of Anais Nin - she’s very expressive and colorful with her evocative descriptions of female sexuality. She also writes about a great many other things, though, and occasionally interviews someone. Recently, she interviewed Jill McDevitt, who opened a shop that caters to female sexuality in a suburb of Philadelphia, and was sued by the local Catholic Church (the suit has since been dropped).
And then there was her interview with Suki, the inventor of the OhMiBod, a vibrator attachment for your iPod (and which is fucking incredible - if you have an iPod, the OhMiBod is a “must have” if you’re a woman!!!).
So when she approached me about doing an interview for her site, I immediately jumped at the chance. I thought it would be nice to respond to questions someone else had for a change. The interview was conducted Friday afternoon, and she spent all day Saturday formatting it for her web site.
You can read the interview HERE. Go see what she wanted to know and what I told her - you may be surprised at some of my answers. And let us know what you think, either here or there.
I am Looking Forward to Moving to California Because…
June 5, 2008
One of the things I am looking forward to most about moving to California is the fact that the state now allows same-sex couples to get married. The recent California Supreme Court ruling that the state’s law restricting marriage to heterosexual couples was unconstitutional stands as a compelling tribute to the protection of civil rights, not unlike the ruling in Loving v. Virginia. Sanity was used in the decision rather than outdated concepts about familial structure, “tradition” or disproven theories about potential harm to children as reasons why marriage must be preserved as it has historically been constructed (despite the twisted leaps in logic needed to justify such concepts as the basis for those rulings).
I vividly remember when I got the “breaking news” on my Blackberry that the ruling had come down. I sat down on a bench in the mall where I had been shopping and cried. I tried not to, but the tears just flowed. Even though the ruling didn’t affect me directly, I was still overcome with emotion that the high court in the nation’s largest state had the courage to see through all of the ideological hogwash (to use a term my father likes to use) and come down on the side of real equality.
I’m sure many of the people who passed me wondered what the hell was wrong (though, interestingly, no one stopped to ask! lol). Those of us who believe that two people who love each other should be allowed to celebrate that love through matrimony celebrate one more victory over the religious and ideological bigotry that has plagued our society (and continues to in the vast majority of this country) on this issue. The ruling is one of those events for which I shall always remember where I was and what I was doing, not unlike September 11, 2001.
As someone who is bisexual, it may be that I decide to marry someone who happens to be of the same gender as I am. I don’t think anyone else has the right to tell me that I can’t do it, or that I should not have the same rights regarding tax benefits, hospital visitation, custody of our children, or anything else that a male and female couple gets to enjoy as the result of being married. I want to laugh (or is it cry?) when someone says that “the people” should decide whether marriage should be extended to same sex couples, as if civil rights should be determined by the will of the majority. If that were the case slavery might still be legal in some places in this country. The concept of civil rights protection was designed specifically to prevent the majority from oppressing a minority class, and is not and should not be subject to the “will of the people.”
Many people have asked if Nikki and I are planning on getting married while we are in California. Have we talked about it? Sure. But we’re not at the point where we’re ready to go down that road. We’ve been together in one form or another since we were 15, and regardless of anything else that happens, we will always be soul mates. We have a close bond that transcends any contract or recognition by those outside the two of us. We don’t need a marriage to ensure or validate that. We also both recognize that we don’t know where life will take us over the next handful of years. I have my goals and she has hers. In many ways they’re similar, but in some they are disparate. Quite honestly, at this particular point in my life, I don’t see myself getting married at all. But just about every person I’ve known to say that has gotten married or is planning to get married now. The fact remains that I might want to marry Nikki one day, and I certainly want to have that option available if that’s the path we elect to choose.
Regardless, the fact now remains that we can get married if we elect to do so in California. If we move back to Florida, though, the state’s ironically named “Defense of Marriage Act” prohibits the state from recognizing us as legally married. I love living in Florida and hope to move back here when I finish my graduate work. But I may have to reconsider that at some point. Even if we don’t get married, or I marry a fine gentleman someday, I still prefer to live somewhere where people are free to be who they want to be and free to be married to whom they wish to be married free of state-sanctioned discrimination. California is, and always has been at the forefront with that philosophy.
One can only hope that when (not if) the issue reaches the U. S. Supreme Court in substantia the nine justices remember those words penned by Justice William O. Douglass for the majority in the 1965 landmark case, Griswold v. Connecticut (and cited in several important cases hence):
“Marriage is a coming together for better or for worse, hopefully enduring, and intimate to a degree of being sacred. It is an association that promotes a way of life, not causes; a harmony in living, not political faiths; a bilateral loyalty, not commercial or social projects. Yet it is an association for as noble a purpose as any involved in our prior decisions.” [Emphasis mine]
Sense-sational Sex
June 4, 2008
Have you ever walked into a room where someone had just gotten done having sex? And if so, did you notice the scent?
When people fuck, their pubic areas get all mashed together and all sorts of little particles of scent get released into the air. And those of you who’ve gone down on someone know that a person’s pubic area has a unique scent; there’s nothing else like it that I’ve ever encountered. So when you get two people together, and they spend all of those minutes intertwining bodies, sweating, grinding, mashing, thrusting, licking, slapping, and spanking each other, all sorts of scents are released into the air. This is the scent of sex.
If you’ve not had the pleasure, see if you can put yourself in a position where you can go into a room where you know two people just got done fucking. It may be hard if you’re the only one living in the house or you and your partner are the only two bumping uglies therein. But if you’re fortunate(?) enough to live with a roomie, or relatives, (or transients, whatever the case may be), see if you can catch him/her locked up in the room going to town with a partner, and when they’re done, go in and smell the room. You won’t pick up on it if you go into a room where you’ve been fucking, because the scents will already be entrenched in your olfactory canal. You have to sniff someone else’s. You can get a hint of it, though, when you get ready to kiss your partner after s/he’s gone down on you. When they draw close to your mouth to kiss you (you do allow your partner to kiss you after s/he’s had their mouth all over your naughty bits, right?), allow yourself to breathe in and smell your own scent. That scent, combined with theirs works to create that musky, characteristic odor that tells others you’ve been fucking. It’s almost like the “JBF look,” only different.
Sex to me is a sensual experience. And by that I don’t just mean in the spiritual sense that many people think of when they hear that word. I mean that I enjoy the sex I have with someone else using all of my senses: sight, sound, taste, touch, smell, and intuition (that 6th sense). Think about that for a minute. Do you even concentrate on what it is like to actually see your partner during sex? Have you ever just stared into your partner’s eyes during all of that thrusting? Have you ever really listened to the sounds you two (three, four…) make when you’re mouth fucking his cock?
There are some excellent ways to isolate and explore each of your senses the next time you’re fucking your partner.
For example, to explore the sense of sound, have sex at night after it is dark outside. Make the room pitch black – turn off all the lights that you can see when you’re in the room, close the curtains so the outside lights (including that romantic moonlight) won’t intrude, and turn off everything that makes any noise whatsoever – any fans, the air conditioner (I know it’ll get hot – sweaty sex is fun, though, trust me), the television or radio – all of it. And when you’re in the heat of passion, don’t talk. Don’t say a fucking thing. Just listen to the sounds your partner’s making as s/he performs on you. If you’re a guy, listen to those slurps, licks, gurgles, gagging noises, and even grunts and groans as she goes up and down and worships your cock. If you’re a woman, listen to the sucking, licking and slurping sounds he makes as he lavishes all of that tongue worship on your engorged little clit and your swollen labia. If you’re the performing partner, listen to the little grunts and “oohs” and ”ahhs” your partner makes when you hit those special little concentrations of nerves that send sparks through his/her body.
Then, once penetration has occurred, listen to the slapping of bodies together, the slaps on your ass, the squeaking of the bed frame (or the car frame if you have bad shocks). Just don’t talk – don’t say a word (not even the requisite “fuck me harder”), and then when the orgasm(s) hit, listen to those grunts, growls, moans and groans. Listening to your partner having an orgasm is incredible – you can hear how much you’ve satisfied them in those unintelligible noises.
For the sense of touch, again, turn off all the lights, turn on the shower, and you and your partner step in and wash each other. Your hearing will be effectively reduced because of the rushing water and you won’t be able to see shit. You’ll have to run your hands all over your partner’s body (or you can use your boobs if you’re a female). The only way you’ll know where anything is is through the sense of touch. If you want to put your partner’s cock in your mouth, pussy or ass, you’ll have to use your hands to find it and guide it to where you want it to be.
Another way to explore the sensation of touch is to have sex in the rain completely naked. This works best if it is a light rain, slightly stronger than a drizzle. Find some place where you won’t be seen (i.e., your backyard), get naked, and go to town. Feel all of those little drops of liquid hitting you on the back as you and your partner are enjoying the other sensations you’re experiencing. If you get lucky, this will be combined with a good, cool breeze, raising those little chill bumps all over your body.
The vast majority of people just don’t really take the time to enjoy all of these sensations during sex. They tend to focus on just the feelings in their genitals to the detriment of all of their other senses. If you want to heighten the excitement you get out of a sexual encounter, make it a point to shift the focus out of that narrow little paradigm into one where you realize it as the full-body, full-spirit exercise it should be. Then, you’ll come closer to knowing what sex is truly supposed to feel like.
Obviously, there are the other senses to deal with as well, but I’ll address them in a bit more depth in a future post.
Outage Apologies
June 2, 2008
Many of you who tried to reach the blog this morning encountered either the “Page Suspended” message or one of a variety of other “you can’t get there from here” kinds of messages.
Another site on the web posted a link to the blog and my traffic spiked from an average of a few hundred hits a day to well over 30,000 yesterday. My hosting company just suspended the account without any warning, and I didn’t know until someone e-mailed me about it. The outage lasted from about 8:30 this morning until around 1:30 this afternoon.
Anyway, I think all of the issues are resolved at this point, so please accept my apologies for the outage, especially to those of who who suffer from blog withdrawal when one of your favorite sites goes dark.
And I have to extend a special thanks to Nina, who has to be one of the sexiest geeks in the world, for her help in getting my WordPress settings back in place after we got turned back on. You’re a special woman, my dear.
So now that I wasted all morning dealing with that, I can get back to writing my post on the smell of sex and that “just been fucked” look.
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