…that I notice while sipping tea.

In no specific order of importance.

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You know what? I am tired, tired up to my fucking eyebrows, of people who do not know how to apologize. When you have done something that insults someone, hurts someone, angers someone, bothers someone, when you have fucked up and been called on it and you need to apologize, you fucking apologize. You do

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Why do we get so full of ourselves we think we’re owed by these places?

If anything, we owe them.

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I have no idea what this icon means but it totally suits my mood today. Twitter has replaced FetLife as the most aggravating thing in my life. Seriously. If I didn’t have to follow it all day for work, I’d totally turn the shit off for like… a month.

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It’s stupid to keep aggravation in my life, especially online aggravation from someone who I will never actually meet, never want to actually meet and who has, really, NO redeeming qualities.

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So I’m cruising around FetLife this morning and I’m all blinking at my monitor, making gaping fish faces and pretty much sitting here slack jawed. Holy hell. There are a whole lot of people I like on Fet but, for the most part, it’s become a cesspit of retardation. I read no less than ten

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So I log in to FetLife today – which I no longer do each and every day cuz I’m flippin’ busy, man – and the first things I see on my front page? “People who think dog rape is a-ok” and “Another day, another shoot at Kink”. Wandering over to my groups I found “Is

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So, if you follow kaya around on Fetlife you’re bound to come across some of the funniest and snarkiest and gobsmacking-ist topics. Which, of course, make the best blog fodder. Today I came across one dealing with rules; Masters rules vs community/group rules and which rules take precedence. And I’m all… Duh. Why the fuck

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I did a post not so long ago about attention seeking behavior. I have issues with attention seeking behavior. Serious issues. Like… it makes me want to drive a fondue fork into my eye, run shrieking thru the streets and bleed all over the person doing it; cover them in eyeball juice then smack them

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Every time I see a discussion titled slave vs submissive, I damned near get lock jaw from clenching my teeth so hard. I am not about to get into the debate regarding what the difference is.  As far as I’m concerned, there freakin’ isn’t one.  Not in the way most folks mean when they talk

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Bunch of hooplah over on FetLife.  What’s new, right?   I’m extremely stressed out over the constant slavier-than-thou bullshit I see all over the place. I’m not a fucking slave, god damn it.  I don’t have to behave the way you do, the way the folks in Laura Antoniou’s books do or the way Master Meatmeister

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“In my relationship there is none of this needing to tingle stuff.  There is no throwing of ashtrays.  I obey happily and suffer gladly.  I learn from mistakes and so does he and then we stop making mistakes and live together in un-ambiguous, perfectly communicating harmony!” Well.  Maybe not those exact words but that exact implication.

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I’m such a hermit lately! I haven’t checked FetLife in at least a week. So I peek in today and find yet another new group for daddy doms and their baby girls.  That makes more than twenty. Wouldn’t you think they’d find each other better in one group than twenty? *blink* And then there’s another

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I’ve been ranting for years about the safety police when it comes to BDSM.  I’ve long been a proponent of being aware of the risk and making your own decisions; of not sticking your nose in and telling other people what they “must” do in order to be safe. I’m really starting to get aggravated by the

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Ok. I shouldn’t do it.  I should write something important.  But I can’t stop myself. I read this today and BURST into laughter: As a victim of rape @ age 19 that ended with my ass being taken with no preparation and the whole thing ending when I began to cry… Now don’t crawl all

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