Deep Breath

This is embarrassing but.

Deep Breath.

Here goes.

Monsieur is … big. Down there. He’s got a big ‘un. It’s like my arm, when there’s a navel orange in my hand. My god, blog, he’s big.

I knew he was since M was rather proud of him, that way. But I wasn’t prepared for it.

When I finally unpeeled that forbidden fruit (you remember my mentioning) I was astounded. Speechless. And, I was a little scared.

But it was OK as I did finally um … figure out how to handle it. But I think I could have done better. So in case there’s a next time, I ordered a … “work out tool”.

It’s big, too. And it arrived. I’m scared to death of it. But I need to be brave. For Monsieur.

Amber and I are going to try them out together. Online, of course; not in person (oo! That would be sweet). We’ll see how it goes.

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Yahoo went to shit very quickly after M’s death. It seems that online advertisers discovered that most user rooms were inhabited by – are you ready, people? – perverts. That’s where their ad dollars were going.

Did no one ever look in on these communities? I mean, really. Do you think somebody at Georgia Pacific got all upset at the ‘Role Playing Chat User Rooms’ that say “13 Year Old Girls for Older Guys”?

Of course not. They got upset because a TV station in Houston ran a big story about it, and the Xians complained. Now I can’t pretend to be a 13 year-old girl online.

Joking!

But it’s awful that the perverts (who didn’t go away; never mind what anyone says) have to mingle with the ordinary role-players.

I miss Maggie, at the piano or managing at Ann’s. On the piano, she was pure class. As a manager, she was brutal. I felt safe when she was managing. She was the best one.