I want to throw a tantrum.

Never mind the barrage of times I've stood spankers up, canceled at the last minute, simply didn't  show up. Being postponed on: bites ass! It's the second time it happens this year. Karma bites butt and I don't like it, even if the cancelations were legitimate and reasonable.

In my defense, I was just following my gut instinct of something going amiss, mostly every time. Sometimes, I just wouldn't be in the mood to make the trip after all. I know. I know, basic human respect. Agh!!

What no spanker likes to hear

In my experience, no spanker has ever reacted kindly to my speaking up about bad aim

I have a tendency to mention how a swat was delivered either too high or too low. However, every time I do so, I encounter phrases such as "I know how to spank, young lady. I've been spanking longer than you have been alive." and "you think I have horrible aim?"Magically followed by a rampage of spanks delivered accurately to my sit pots, or "are you whining?" Sometimes I bite my tongue as single swat delivered amiss can be acceptable.  I must one day draw a perimeter around the acceptable spanking area. Never did I imagine being spanked would make me so finicky.

Worst bruising ever

Sadly it wasn't on my butt. It was on my inner thing/groin. If only my bottom would get those shades of purple/red/black/blue; alas, every area of my body seems to bruise beautifully besides my butt.

Summer

Favorite spanking spot: over stone bench in cemetery.
(Bleachers over looking baseball diamond comes a close second)
Ecstasy: Spanked in Friendly's restaurant.
Longest healing time: 2 weeks. Damn paddle ball paddle.
# 1 reason for crying: Not being able to convince the spanker to ease up. Not so much for the pain but more so the loss of control.
# 1 reason  to smile: Being dragged by the ear while my bottom is swatted.
# 1 reason to be smug: When the spanker desperately wants to break me and I become stoic.

Ever since June my bottom has colored more than it ever has. I like that. Also, my pain tolerance has significantly gone down. I don't know why.

disillusioned

It was in second grade geography that I learned of Puerto Rico. I thought, boy do I want to go there, they must be super rich; why else would it be named that. Little did I know I'd move to Cleveland a couple of years later and meet a whole lot of Puerto Ricans. 

The first apartment we lived in when in Cleveland was an upstairs apartment; the landlady lived downstairs. She often shared her childhood stories of how often she was spanked. My 9 year old self worshiped this woman, brazenly I'd ask her to share stories in detail. By 10, I believed I could get her to spank me, so, I began smacking her bottom and then running away. I did this shamelessly for a summer. perhaps? I do not recall how long. It wasn't until my brother told me she was so fed up with me she wanted to "darle una pela a tu hermana" upon hearing this I resigned myself to never getting a spanking from her. After all I wasn't her child for her to discipline and I was just a little brazen girl. It was at the tender age of 10 that the realization of not getting a spanking for misbehaving would not just simply happen, finally settled in. 

Report on my first 50 mile bike ride.

Tuesday, May 2, 2006. 

Yesterday, I mean, Sunday I did a 50 mile bike ride for the cycling honor. Except for three falls everything went ok. All nine of us finished. I'm so sore that I can't even sit because my butt hurts. I can't stand because I'm tired. My arms hurt because they are sunburned. My knee is scraped up. It will be a while before I can even be.

Yes, I've ridden my bike around town with a cane sticking out of my bag.