Sunday Silence – Belmont

I knew better than to assume it would happen.

By the time the next Belmont Stakes rolls around, it will have been 31 years since Affirmed won the Triple Crown in 1978. In the most electrifying Belmont ever, Secretariat won the race by 31 lengths, in 1973. Maybe the race gods have a thing about number 31. After all, I was born on 10/31.

Confessions of a Secret Fluff

Twelve steps work for some people. I don’t think it would work for me. I mean, I don’t think anyone would take me seriously if I got up in front of the group and said, “Hi. My name is Winter and I’m secretly fluffy. I have an obsession with… designer handbags.” I am fluffy. Girlie. Googly eyed over some really feminine things. I never used to be like this. I used to be a much more hardy soul. As I get older though, I find myself liking some of these freakishly feminine things. Things that are distinctly… fluffy.

Now, I promise not to post my kid’s baby pics or give you a TT with 13 reasons why I love my old man, but c’mon. I’ve subjected you to my purple toes already! So you know I like to do the pedicure thing. Well, I’ve graduated. I now do the pedicure AND manicure thing. I even buy my own OPI polish so I’m not using the salon’s watered down stuff. I have a thing for OPI’s Russian Collection. Currently, my fingers have on Russian Navy and my toes have Affair in Red Square. I have Siberian Nights, Midnight in Moscow, and Catherine the Grape too. Manicures and pedicures are fluffy things. You do not give a shit about my manicure and pedicure, do you?

Well, I’m copping to the mani/pedi thing only as a preface to showing you how serious my illness truly is. I came home yesterday wiped out from more than 10 hours at the office without lunch and nary a break. I checked and lo and behold, my refund has hit the bank. CHA CHING. What did I, in my exhausted state, do? I went to eBay. I went to eBay and typed in 3 little words. DOONEY AND BOURKE. $86 and a matching star purse and wallet later, I left eBay and went to… uh huh, you guessed it… I checked out the price of the giraffe print purse I’ve been lusting over for months. I checked out a cool bracelet. I put them both in the shopping cart and almost had a coronary. The cart was almost $300 once tax and shipping was slapped on. Holy Handbags!

Okay, I saved the cart. I did not check out. That was the first non-fluffy thing I’d done since I got home, if you discount sitting in front of the computer in my underwear and a ratty Eddie Bauer t-shirt. I went back to eBay… and found that same giraffe print bucket purse WITH a matching wallet going for less than the price of the brand new giraffe print purse. I put in a bid and someone promptly topped me. After that, I put the item on watch. I’ve been watching since last night. The auction ends tomorrow. I have not yet decided to buy the purse. Even though it is used, if it goes for less than $200 it is a steal. So, I’m watching.

While I’m watching tonight, after yet another 10+ hour day with no lunch break, I find a Dooney bracelet. This one has charms on it… fucking PINK charms. Ooooh. The one in the cart at Dooney’s website doesn’t have charms and is $55 + Tax + Shipping. This one is less than $50, has free shipping and no tax. At 3 minutes left in the auction, I’m a click fiend. The bracelet is now mine.

So, do you think that has satisfied my girlish obsession for awhile? Nuh uh. I’m still watching the giraffe purse. I still lust after it more than I lust after Matt-Man’s knobby knees and tented boxers. I lust after it more than I lust after Marcus. *GASP* That is like the ultimate fluffy confession. That I want a giraffe print designer handbag more than Marcus Schenkenberg. I suppose it’s because the purse is attainable, and Marcus, to my everlasting dismay, is not.

I am mostly sardonic in nature, but deep inside me there is a fluffy feminine girl who buys designer purses, paints her toenails purple or red, loves getting a manicure and pedicure, and… wants a Tiffany padlock pendant. *sniff* I’m sorry. I know you all thought I was above that girlish squeeing behavior. Go ahead. Feel free to call me a poser. I feel like one. Take away my Dooney camera bag purse with the rainbow candy colored zipper. I deserve your scorn. Maybe I’ll make up for it by giving Mr. Fabulous a cleavage shot in a Frederick’s of Hollywood black satin corset to post for his cleavage contest. After all, no self respecting fluff, who adores Victoria’s Secret, would buy her corset at Frederick’s. I, however, wouldn’t think of buying it anywhere else but the last bastion of skanks and sluts. I guess there’s hope for me after all.

Fake Horses & Pornfest

I love Trotter. He always makes me laugh. In a different way than Irish because, God and the sim knows, they have completely different styles of humor. Trotter is a friend from the horse racing sim game I play. Trot’s wise with a dry sense of humor and a frank appreciation for women. I whined in the sim chat that no one was commenting on my blog. Trot says, “Where’s the pics?” We all thought the same thing… Trot wanted nekkid women which reminds me of pornfest. So I decided I would talk about Trotter today. Trotter, the sim, and pornfest.

Pornfest is a creation of my S.O. Rott. Rott hooked up all the TVs in the condo to a porn feed from his DVD player. You can see porn in virtually every room in the house – he calls it Pornfest. Of course, when my kid was younger he could only do Pornfest when she went to her dad’s for the weekend or when we were gone for the day at work and school.

I used to tell the story of Pornfest in the sim chat room and most of the guys were complimentary. I mean, c’mon… what man isn’t into porn? The only ones I’ve ever met who didn’t like it were the holy rollers. And they prolly did too but just wouldn’t admit it. Just because you believe in God or Jesus doesn’t mean you can’t get turned on by people having sex.

Trotter is unabashedly male. I can smell the testosterone through the computer, I swear. He’s low key about it… not like Vett and his Girls Gone Wild attitude. No, Trotter is suave and uses his dry humor to advantage. I always think of him as the James Bond of the sim. Shaken, not stirred. Although I suppose in Trot’s case he’s stirred, not shaken! LOL So if Trot’s Bond, I guess that makes Irish Felix Leiter. Felix is the CIA agent who is Bond’s pal. He’s the Jerry Lewis to Trot’s Dean Martin. They are both hot as hell to the sim females although some of them refuse to admit it and prefer to hit on Greg. Heh.

Greg’s charm not withstanding, all the women seem to acknowledge Trot as the man about town (and the sim) that he is. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one disagree with him in the sim chat. Unless we’re talking sires and breeding. EVERYONE disagrees about THAT. It’s the universal cause of discord because no two people agree on breeding except the Super guys from Del Penn. I’ve never seen such fighting as the simmers do over breeding fake horses. Breed this one over. No, don’t. This is a good breeding. No, it’s not. Dixie Union is a good sire. I’ve never had the urge to use him. And on and on. I know, if you’re reading this and you’re not from the sim you’re going WTF is she yammering about?

The people from the sim are as fierce about it as others are about porn. Some people can’t live without at least a little porn entertainment in their lives. The simmers can’t live without their fake horses and the whole sim lifestyle of breeding and training and betting. Okay, some of the simmers can’t live without porn either. Like Trotter insinuating that he wouldn’t comment on my blog unless I posted pics… meaning naked ones. Maybe I’ll post a naked Kelly Monaco just for him this week. LOL

I guess we all have our obsessions. Mine is Marcus. Ok, and the sim. *sigh* Okay, Pornfest too. You got me there. Now I’ve confessed to everything. Well, maybe not everything. Heh. Time for me to go. The hot grocery delivery guy is due here anytime with my food! Just another little obsession of mine… like the fake horses and pornfest. Only this obsession breathes. Heh Heh.

Laters peeps!