Two Messy Scenes I Want To Have in Sandy Eggo

I am back in San Diego for a bit. When I first got here I started sizing up the public toilets as I love to piss on boys in public bathrooms.  I was lucky enough to find one that has a two-way mirror wall.  Yep, I know where there is a bathroom that has a wall of glass you can see out of but people on the other side cannot see in.  It is trippy, and very very hot.

I really hope that there is someone out there who wants to do something sexy in this bathroom with me.  I’m getting antsy.  The grey days we are having are lovely.  I want to play.  This town makes me crazy.  I am in a mood to do something dirty!

This bathroom has been an active part of my fantasies for a year now.  I have not had a chance to play in it.  I expect that the business will eventually close its doors.  I really want to piss on someone in this bathroom before I leave town, before the place goes out of business, before I can’t.  You know?

Now let me give you a better image of what I am talking about here.  There is a bathroom in central San Diego that is in a very high traffic business.  People coming and going.  Lots of people. The toilet is right in the middle of the establishment.  One of the walls is a mirror on the outside and a transparent piece of glass on the inside of the bathroom.

Sometimes I go in there just to masturbate.  I have never had a chance to piss on a boy in there.  I very much want to do this.  I woke up thinking about this.  I jerked off and thought I would suggest a public pissing in this toilet to you.  It will be the sexiest golden shower you ever have.  I am drinking a gallon of water right now, waiting for you to call me.

Also …

I have this giant thing of cheese sauce taking up a huge amount of real estate in my refrigerator.  I have a hard time wasting food.  I don’t want to just toss it, nor would I even know the best way to do that.  I got stuck bring it home from a family party.  I’m not gonna eat it.  I have moral issues with throwing it out.  It won’t flush easily.  If I put it in the garbage it will ooze and make a big ass mess.  What I want to do with it, every time I open the fridge in fact, is take it to the beach, and have a splosh session with it.

It is a huge thing of cheese sauce.  It is spicy.  I want to rub it in your face with my feet.  I want to cover your dick with it.  I would very much like to throw a wad of it at you, get it in your hair, make a big ass mess.

Any takers?

There is a nude beach here that might make the best place for this type of scene.  After the sauce is gone, I’ll cover you in sand, laugh at you, and piss all over you.

Any takers?

I’m in the mood to play.  Don’t make me sit alone, horny as hell, drinking, loathing this town, again, night after night.  Call me up and tell me you want to do the cheesy splosh scene.  I will make it very very fun!

 

 

 

Three Pissing Scenes in New England

Thanks to the massive budget cuts that the California state school system is in the midst of, I had a ten-day furlough season.  I thought I could stick around and take care of the things I need to take care of or I could head to New England.  You might know how much I loathe Sandy Eggo and you might already realize that I split town.

My girlfriend, Lorelei Erisis, went back east when I realized that I was going to go to graduate school in San Diego.  We came here looking for places, opportunities and good times only to discover a hostile environment where people would not shake her hand and local queers were doing everything in their power to mimic the straight heteronormative lifestyle that hegemonic forces so demand.  We realized pretty quickly that she needed to live somewhere less volatile.

She went back east and I stayed here.  It was, and is, awful.  We are in love.  We are best friends.  Why does she have to live thousands of miles away?  Fuck, can you hear the sadness?

Anyway.  Sob sob, poor me, waaaaa.

I went to New England and had an awesome time.   I got a lot of work done at the stonewall center.  I had a chance to talk to some people about gender variant neologisms. I pissed on some boys.

So, on with the porn.

The first few days I was there I was in the midst of a huge deadline.  I hade a paper on crime theory due and I was on the rag.  I was vile.  As soon as I turned it in I looked up and realized I had to pee.  A nifty sort of boy contacted me.  He confessed that he used to play at dungeons but because the sessions were so cookie cutter ze ceased to continue the activities.

We met in a bar in downtown Northampton in the middle of the day.  I had a bloody marry that was not strong enough, spicy enough, or bloody enough.  He drank a beer.  We sat there discussing the finer points of verbal humiliation.  When our drinks were finished we headed to the Hotel Northampton.  It is a big beautiful historic hotel.  Not the sort of place people designed to meet for smutty activities.

At the bar this boy tells me that she has “prepared the room.” Knowing that we have agreed to a golden shower I asked if she covered the room in plastic wrap, like Dexter would.  Should I be frightened?  What am I walking into? I wondered.

When we got to the room there was a big blue tarp on the bed and a door that lead to a shared balcony. The balcony was right above the main drag in this cute little college town.   Highly visible.

I put her in a sexy one-piece girdle bra thing.  Beige, with a crotch snap and huge D cups that she could not fill.  Poor boobless boy.  Then we went out on the balcony.  I had her prance around on the balcony in her skivvies.  I took off my pants and told her to lie down.  I pissed on her belly, on her crotch, on her face.

“Stand up and look at the people down on the street” I told her.  I made her prance around some more.  We were only on the second floor.  She was wet with piss, standing in a one-piece panty, bra, girdle combo.  Chest hair popping out of the bra.  Flat chested hairy wet bitch.  It was a beautiful sunny day.  People were out on the street.  Lots of people. Anyone who looked up could have seen us up there on the balcony.  I made eye contact with a middle-aged hippie type.  He saw.

Though the sun was out, it was October in New England.  My bitch was wet and without pants on, I was cold.  We headed back in to the tarp-covered bed.  I had him lay on the blue tarp and I stood over him, letting my piss trickle.  I asked him a question and when he went to answer it I let some more piss fall onto his face.  I was having a blast.

He wanted to be degraded, but didn’t want to be called any of the standard “pig, slut whore” type names.  I started in on his capitalistic lifestyle.  His carbon footprint.  His SUV.  His over indulgent house in the suburbs.  I was having a super sexy time insulting this American.  I got down.  Pissing and articulation of all things wrong with the world.  That is what this bitch was getting.  All the while we are on a blue tarp covered bed, in a snooty themed hotel with floral print screaming at me from every wall and window covering.  A puddle of piss had formed around my left foot.  “Slurp it,” I ordered.

After a bit we moved to a strip tease.  I had her put on an extra layer of bra / panties.  “Get up in the window and dance” I told her. Sadly, the only music in the place was some strange folk concert on the telly.  The sound quality sucked, the music was laden with banjos, and my hairy, flat-chested, piss-covered, panty-wearing bitch was trying her damdest to shake her flat manly ass.

I laughed.  She danced. I laughed, she danced.  She rolled around on the floor like a stripper would.  I laughed.

Eventually I put her in the tub, stood over her and had her stroke herself.  I pissed in her nose, in her eyes, on her dick.  I drenched her. She came.  Then I spanked her with the remote control.

 

Then …

I had one of the strangest sessions ever while I was in noho.  An old man – old like white hair, pot belly, probably in his 70’s old – called me and suggested that he was a big fan and wanted to get together.  After a short conversation we agreed to meeting at a cheap sounding motel at the edge of Smith College.

When I got there he was not able to articulate what sort of session he wanted.  He said he didn’t have any experience. I asked him to tell me a story.  He said he didn’t have any.

The room had this huge heart shaped bathtub.  “Strip and get in” I told him.  I had a gallon of water in me already.  “Get out, put on the panties, and get back in” I instructed.  I stood precariously over this love tub, in my own black cotton thong and pissed just enough to get them wet.  I slapped them thinking “I don’t think I have ever pissed in my panties before.” I liked the way it felt.  Wet panties dripping over an old man.  This was about to get very hot.

I tried to get some information about his fantasies out of him.  I got nothing.  He was dull, vapid, boring me to tears.  I pissed a slow trickle over him, through my panties.  I was amused by the sensation of dripping wet panties.  I shot a little onto his white hair.   He seemed totally indifferent.  Maybe it was not about to get hot.  I was still hopeful.

After what seemed like three hours but was more like twenty minutes my piss stream dried up. I was shocked.  I drank a gallon of water.  Where in the hell was it?  Today is the day my body decided to absorb it? Am I piss shy if I’m not turned on?  I had no idea.  My piss was gone.  Our chemistry was non-existent.  I was trying to piss on an old man in a heart shaped tub.  There was no music.  There was no conversation.  Then there was no piss.

Mua~mwa~muagh.

Not the sexiest of times.  Certainly one of the most awkward.  I left with the impression that this old man simply wanted to be near me for an hour.  I wish he had said that on the phone.  We could have had lunch.

 

Then …

Thank gawd, at the last possible minute, I lined up a public golden shower.  I love these.  Love Them!

We met at the Wal-Mart.  As we went in I put my hand out.  He put money in it.  We walked to the back of the store.  I took him in the family rest room.  I locked the door so a Wal-Mart shopping family didn’t catch us.  “Take off your jacket and put it on the dirty baby changer.  If you want your clothing to stay dry, strip.” I told him.  He looked puzzled.  “If you don’t mind getting soaked just lay down in your clothes.” He laid down on the floor in his black pants and black t-shirt.  I dropped my pants and stuck my ass over his face.  “Open” I demanded.  I squirt a quick shot of piss into his mouth.  “Swallow” I ordered.  He gulped it down and opened wide again.  I shot piss into his mouth and he swallowed it.  This happened several times and then I let the piss flow so that it got in his nose, in his eyes.  He was sputtering.  It was fucking hilarious.  I was giggling as he tried to avoid drowning in my piss.  I was laughing and pissing.  He was swallowing and sputtering.  He told me it was like going swimming as a kid.  I pissed all over him.  Got his clothes wet.  Shot my full bladder all over his face.  I had to piss something awful.  It was fucking hot.  I grabbed a piece of toilet paper, wiped, threw it at his face, pulled up my pants and headed out the door.

As I was leaving the parking lot he walked in front of the car I was driving with the biggest smile I have every seen on someone leaving Wal-Mart.

My heart was pounding, my pussy was throbbing, my pocket was full of cash.  I was Happy.

Western Mass Now. NYC Saturday. Hyannis Sunday.

I am in Western Mass now.  I could potentially see a client on Friday night after 9:00 PM.  Saturday morning I head to NYC via car.  I will need to pee – contact me to be my roadside toilet!

I’ll be in the city (and mostly unavailable) on Saturday.   Quick public piss sessions are available during the day.  I have time for one full session in NYC on Saturday night.

Sunday morning I head to the cape.  I am available for roadside piss stops on my way there.  Hyannis is my destination.  I have time for one session while I am there.  I am going through my dungeon / theater storage so I’ll be in a mood.  Also, I’ll be dirty and smelly.

Sunday night I head back to Western Mass.  I will be available for outcall sessions Monday.  Tuesday I am not available.

Wednesday through November first – this is still up in the air.  I should be in NYC on Wednesday the 28^th but I need to be in Western Mass too.  Hmmmm.  I’ll update with my decision as soon as I make one.

New England and the Tri-State Area — Next Week!

I’ll be in New England and the Tri-State area this month.

Furlough season has given me a chance to get out of this hole of a town.  I fly to Boston Wednesday.  I head to Western Mass immediately and hole up until Friday at which point I will begin interviewing people for my thesis.  Interested in talking to me about gender neutral language?  Send me a message.

I might take a trip to the cape during the weekend – depends.  The following Monday I will start wandering around the region looking at schools and making road side piss stops!  You know you want one!

My itinerary is still coming together but I will certainly be visiting Albany, Boston, NYC, Stony Brook, Princeton, and New Brunswick NJ.  I expect I’ll go into Pennsylvania but I have a feeling this will be a mistake.

That said, I can’t wait to be someplace that is flip flop free.  I’m sick to tears of the lousy footwear that is endemic to this region.  Contact me to play or to schedule an interview about gender variant language.

Widow Centauri
619.884.2376

Good News Everyone!

Last night started in a most ominous fashion.  The tweaker, who I have been attempting to employ to bring my desk out of the driveway and into my apartment, above the garage, flaked again.  Making this day ten or twelve that my giant desk lingers in the driveway baiting the landlord (who lives in the front house) to come ask me about it.

Ieeee.

Then my friend Karl called me.  Karl has been a friend for some twenty years.  I know he is having an affair and I tried to advise to the best way to keep it on the down low.  But sadly Karl has gotten caught.  He was having a giddy moment of lust called love last night and when I couldn’t take it anymore I hung up and took my laptop, a bottle of two-buck chuck, and a plate of hummus, olives, cheese, and flatbread down into the driveway to work on a proper desk.

Grad school is a bitch.  I’m a walking cliché with my exhaustion, my boxes of unpacked madness making my apartment resemble a storage unit, and me in the driveway with a bottle of two dollar wine sitting at a full sized office desk at midnight – when the phone rang.

Apparently Mark saw my new ad on Eros.  It’s a real hoot.  Makes certain I won’t get too many calls.  Check it out – look in fetish fantasy in sd.

Mark talks me into coming to his room at the Hyatt.  He tells me he is black and smart.  I’m pretty easy really.  When I get there I discover that he smokes pot, that he is as horny as I am, that he is gorgeous, buff, dark, smart (as promised), that his mother was / is a librarian, that he lives on the east coast and that his real name is not mark.

After we toke up I tell him to strip.  Then he is kissing my back, something that I discover he is very good at. He is kissing me all over with his big lips, I’m melting.  Simply melting.

I haven’t had good sex in well over a year. Last week I got a practice run to see if it really is like riding a bicycle. It is! This Mark knows what he is doing. Oh yes, he does.

The kissing is rapidly followed by me sliding a magnum onto his dick that is big, not the biggest I have taken, but not disappointing.  I cannot wrap my had around it.  It is long and thick and I go to back onto it and he directs me to my back.  I would normally, in my ubber neurotic state, not let anyone get on top of me, but he is so mellow and strong and soft that I trust him.  For no real obvious reason I trust him.  So I get on my back and guide is cock into my dripping vagina.

I am immediately overcome by a huge dick in me.  Yes, it feels good but it hurts a little too. Mister curve was a lot smaller than this dude.  I wonder if I can take it.  I know I can.  I want to.  I am so turned on and so horny and he pushes his dick inside me.  I moan. It still hurts, but just a little and in a good way.  A real good way!

He pumps real slow at first, then faster then faster and deeper until I come and come and come.  I am moaning like I haven’t been laid in a year.

We keep fucking like this till I tell him I simply must flip over.  I stick my ass in the air, add some lube to my already well-lubricated pussy, and as he slides his dick into me he grabs my hips – I loose it.  I am one big orgasm.  I am coming and coming and screaming and he is shooshing me – like that will work.  I put my face in a pillow and scream and moan as he squeeze and pumps and slaps my ass and pulls my hair and I am, simply put, in heaven.

One thing that struck me while we were fucking like this was when he slapped my ass the first time there was no wiggle.  Nothing wiggly, just a hard ass that, while slappable and round did not wiggle like it has all the times that I have had sex with aggressive black men.  I was a little sad.  I wondered where I lost my ass.  I lost a lot of weight.  My ass is still back there but not all of it.  Not even most of it.  No wiggle.

But enough with the existential ass woes, I’m getting some!  Hurray for me!   This dude can fuck.  It seems like it goes on forever.  I’m in a trance.  Orgasm after orgasm washes over me.  I know nothing but the sex that I am.  I am moaning and screaming having the best time I have had in a long time.

We flip, fuck this way, that way, every way we can.  Then I have to pee.  I put him in the tub and I’m fucking him. Riding him, he is moaning, it is dark, he reminds me of a gorilla – but I don’t say that, it seems like it might take away from the mood, I’m bouncing up and down, then I pull his cock out of me and squat over it, I let a big stream of piss shoot all over his dick.  He is muttering something about how sexy it is, I keep pissing and pissing and pissing.  Then when I have no more piss I slide his dick back in me.  I ride him and we make a wet suction – slurp slurp slurp

When I’m done in the bathtub we head back to the bed.  I stick my ass in the air and he slips he dick in me.  I stand on my toes, which are wet with piss, we pump against one another and pump and pump.  I am screaming so loud that I shove my face in a pillow, again.  I’m having some fantastic orgasms.  I’m so fucking loud that no one on the 15^th floor of the Hyatt is asleep.   No one.  I’m getting fucked like I need to be getting fucked.  I’m a riot of overwhelming sexy squirting fluids and noises.

We get back into the bed, fuck some more in ways that I am not certain of, I come, he comes, we collapse.  He suggests that I sped the night.  I say “I’m not much for slumber parties” and then I cuddle up to Mark.  His skin is soft and dark.  He tells me I can bite him as we discuss the positive aspects of vampirism.  I bite him and bite him and bite him. I opt to not break his skin as I don’t even know him.  I bite to the point just before skin breakage.  If you bite you know that spot, if not, imagine.

In our post-orgasmic, post cosmic fuck bliss we talk about politics, literacy rates, travel and food, and my ass.  We giggle.  I fall into his arms and pass out.  We cuddle for a few hours, have some more sex and spend the sun-filled part of the day eating food, smoking weed, getting him to the airport so he can head back east.  I watch enviously as he heads into the airport to travel to the better part of the country.

Hopefully I will see Mark again.  If not, it was a swell time.  I’m glad that I opted for the slumber party, got my fuck on, and for the first time in a long time – relaxed!

Thanks Mark

The Business of Professional Domination

I am teaching The Business of Professional Domination at Dungeon Servitius in downtown San Diego Saturday September 19^th at 6:00 PM.  A party follows.  It’s just ten bucks to get so come.

This is one of my favorite workshops.  I love to teach business, whip out my graphs, stats, and show off my way too many years of experience in this industry.

Also, I’m working on a book of this same topic so I have a lot of information to cover.  If you want to know how to make a little extra money as a prodommes or you want to make a career out of this gig – come to this workshop!

It’s good for clients too.  I’m wicked excited so I hope I see you there!

Visit http://www.dungeonservitus.com for details and to rsvp.

I Got Laid!

There is nothing sexy about sandy eggo.  Not a god dam thing.  Last year when school started I sent my girlfriend back east and I put my nose in a book.  bout a hundred of em’ actually.  A year later I looked up to realize that this town managed to turn me into a cold frigid bitch.  This is antithetical to my natural sex goddess existence.  Last week when I got real sick with what I was certain was a life threatening illness I went to an acupuncturist.  She put all these needles in me and it felt really good until I left and I started hacking, I was cold and hot and dizzy and I thought I was dying.  I had a panic attack, a blood sugar freak out.  I thought I was getting old.  Shit I was really freaked out.  I couldn’t even walk a couple days there.  After I went to the ER and the doctor suggested that it might be stress I decided it was time for me to get laid.

As it happened the beautiful black man from the pizza parlor political adventure called me up.  I returned his suggestion to get together with “I’ll just come to your place and we can fuck.”  He liked this plan but as it worked out he has a “roommate.”  So we met at a hotel.  It has been a long time since I have even been touched by another person so I was a tad neurotic, to say the least.

I told him how I have turned into a germ-aphobe, how there was no way I could kiss him, and then we got naked.

His dick was one of those curved dicks.  It was shaped like a sex toy designed to stimulate the g-spot.  My fucking lucky day.  I grabbed it, slid a rubber on it, and took it for a ride.  It felt so delicious to have a beautiful black man in me.  Ohhhhhhhhhh, I moaned.  I rode him for a while, spun around, stood up in my new Dior open toed pumps, jumped up on the vanity, had him fuck me all over the room.

At some point he picked me up and carried me over to the bed, laying me on my back.  Now I’m not usually much for the missionary position, but with that crazy curved cock of his I was more than happy to lay there on my back while he rocked slowly in and out of me.  Then quick, then slow, then quick.  He had some technique.  I came over and over and over.

After an hour and a half of fucking we collapsed into a heap.  Like the horny little bitch I am I asked him if he could do it again or if he was a one hit wonder.  He laughed.  We passed out and in the morning I found myself waiting in line at the DMV thinking I should have tied him up and demanded more sex.

It was a hot night of crazy curved cock action.  I might just see him again.  I know one thing – I feel a lot better.  A lot more relaxed and now that my year of celibacy has been broken you can expect a lot more sexcapades on this blog of mine.

Hurray I got laid!  Watch out sexy black men.

Fuck The Sun!

Fuck the sun

I feel like I am hung-over.  All day I was in the sun.  Not on a boat or at the beach but in a coffee house with windows, and driving across town.  Just generally exposed to the sunlight.  I feel beaten up.  At 1:30 I was sobbing in the Kinko’s parking lot it hurt so bad.

It’s like the light burns into my soul.  It makes everything ache.  I get cold, hot, shaky.  I feel my sink burning.

I wear SPF 100, long sleeves, a hat, carry an umbrella, and based on recent advice from a dermatologist — I have started wearing gloves.  I see these sun lovers walking around in shorts and t-shirts and I wonder why they don’t feel what I feel.  I’m pretty sure that a large part of the sun poisoned feeling comes through the light I see.  Through my eyes.  My skin feels thin and fair.  I should not live in such a sunny place.  This is really horrible.

When I finally got out of the sun at 3:00-ish I hid in my closet, as my drapes are still not hung.  I have a little hiding spot of sorts in the walk in closet.  It is the only place in my new apartment that is not saturated with light.  So I went in there and hid.  I wanted to go to yoga but I felt so sick – like I was gonna vomit – like I had a migraine – like I was gonna die —  that I could do nothing but lay there and wait for the sun to go down.  Now that it has I feel immediately better.  The shakes have stopped.  My head feels a little better.  I had some salt and a Guinness.  I expect to feel like myself at about midnight.  Then I’ll get some work done and the fucking ball of illuminating gas will reappear and terrorize me all over again.

I’m not sure what is wrong.  I went to the ER last week.  They ran a blood and urine panel – found nothing wrong with me.  I’m considering having an MRI done to see if I have a tumor or something.  The sun makes me sick.  This is extremely problematic in socal.  I can’t get anything done without encountering a lot of fucking sunlight.

Fuck the sun!

No Pizza, No Beer, No Politics

I went out to pick up a pizza last night and ended up getting kicked out of the pizza place.  When I called for delivery they explained to me that it would take almost two ours but I could pick it up in 20 minutes.  I was fucking hungry so I said, “I’ll come get it.”

When I got there 35 minutes later it still was not ready.  I said hello to the beautiful black man who was waiting on his pizza too.  To my surprise he was ex-military and quite capable of keeping up a decent conversation about politics.  We sat there drinking beer and discussing the dangers of privatized military, the reality of torture, and the constructs of war.  Our take out came but considering the stimulating conversation we opted to have another beer and eat them there at the bar.

The conversation was lively.  We covered a wide spectrum of political issues that irk me.  At some point I mentioned that I am not very impressed with the gay district here.  All I see here are straight people.  No queer culture, just the part of town you should reside in if you are queer.  Hillcrest is queer tolerant, possibly queer friendly but certainly not the gay Mecca it is dubbed to be.

Once our pizzas had been finished and our second beers were mostly (not completely) gone the tattooed hipster chick who had been serving and pouring snatched them up, dumped them and told us we were not welcome to another one.  “You have offended everyone in this place tonight,” she claimed.

“What did we do?” we inquired.  “Everyone left because of your conversation” she assured us, “even the owner.”  The man I was sitting with was real smooth about it and said something to the nature of “If I were the owner of an establishment and two patrons were offending me and the rest of the people in here I would say something, not leave.”  Strong argument, I thought.

The suicide girl got really upset and told us about our conversation and our swearing and …

The long and short of it was that having a conversation about politics in a bar in Hillcrest was not acceptable.  Apparently the view-points we were discussing were not in tune with the values they hold to be true in this “family friendly” pizza joint and bar on 5^th ave.  Saying anything about politics in this town will get you thrown out of a pizza place.  Holy shit!

We went to a bar around the corner and the bar tender refused to give me a beer because I had a passport, not a dl.  Why do you need to have a dl to get a beer?  It seems counter intuitive.  I did not think they encouraged driving to the bar, I had my passport, the most valid form of identification once can have.  Not good enough to get a drink, even when we are the only people sitting there.

This bartender told us that vice has been shaking them down and at one point SDPD actually told them “If you hire X security company, we won’t bother you anymore.” So they actually hired them but the company did such a bad job at carding at the door that they caned X security and now they can’t serve to people who do not drive.  Pretty crazy.  When you stop to think about the implications of the law forcing payment out of a bar in exchange for lessened harassment do you also see the mob?  Do you see the overriding implication of government abusing power?  Do you see where this could lead?

People get very upset when I mention that I do not like San Diego.  People who grew up here seem to take it as a personal attack on them.  It is not.  I loathe sunshine and suburbia.  San Diego is nothing but a sunshine encrusted suburb.  Naturally, I detest it.  Aside from the weather and the city planning there are a number of things here that this region simply lacks.  The thing that most irks me is that the residents of San Diego are so rarely interested in looking at the greater social schema that privileges the wealthy and criminalizes the poor.  This region is extremely racists, classist, and undereducated.  People really believe that they are San Diego and that my distain for this region is a distain for them.  Maybe they are right.

Man Fits

Lately it seems that a lot of full-grown men feel inspired to yell at me.  This is both sad and pathetic.  As an activist working to remove the gender binary I can see these more prevalent man fits as being a sign of the changing times.  But in a world that says it is not alright for boys to cry why is it alright for men to throw fits that make them look more like 14 year old girls than men?

Maybe it is the fact that I am living my dreams.  When a woman decides peruse her education far beyond that of the men in her family, she takes a certain risk.  A risk that does not guarantee that the aforementioned men will treat her with respect, or even be civil for that matter.

My father, bless his pointed little head, threw a full fledged fit where he called me some very nasty names and told me point blank that I was never wanted and basically ruined his life.

Another man in my family has been screaming at me all day about the ludicrousness of my research, insisting that school and education should be for pragmatic reasons and nothing more.  “Airplanes, the internet and stuff.” Obviously the value of critical thought was not very well instilled in his belief system.  Oh well, it is typical for men who feel threatened to lash out at women who take charge and pursue their dreams.  Especially when the woman doing it was voted “most like to do time” in high school.

Though my experience in San Diego does feel like doing time, I am not.  I am working hard to attain a level of education that will allow me to be a professional scholar.  If you find yourself wondering why I would want that you obviously have not read enough of my blog.  I value literacy and I would like to encourage other people to up the bar in regards to intellectual pursuits.  It is high time our lazy greedy American society got off its carcass and read something.  With all of the pointless celebrities and mass media bullshit out there how is it possible for anyone to learn to love learning?  We are all so bombarded with adverts about how to make it big, how to add more bling to our lives, the newest widget for the lowest price – it will make your teeth white and your bank account full, it will give you sex appeal, it will solve all your problems, bla bla bla.  I’m sick of the pointlessness of American values.  I want to go door to door encouraging people to watch the BBC, giving them library cards and telling them that pretty is not enough, you need to smarten up – all of you.

Man fits are something that I am going to have to learn to cope with.  I can see that as I project a new more intellectual self, people are going to yell at me, call me names and expect that I care.  I don’t.

Some of the names I have been called through the course of the last man fit week include depressed, capitalist, bunion, and abusive.  This is not an exhaustive list as many many hours have gone into the ordeal of dealing with these petty insecurities being strewn at me.  This is just the short list of funny things I am not.  These are the ones that stood out as the sad lashing out that happens when men feel threatened.

Pity the hot chick is smarter than you, isn’t it.