Fifty whacks to the pee pee....

Mr.Man is driving me out of my gourd.
He is.
You see, we got our income tax refund and he won't be happy until he blows it all on useless shit we don't need.

What kind of useless shit am I talking about here?

I'm talking muskets, bayonets, powder horns, pistols, wooden planes, petrified tree roots and other assorted goodies....

Honestly, we have ENOUGH of that shit already. What we NEED to do is fix our house.

Let me splain...

This is our house....



Personally I think it needs a little work. That's just me though.
Mr.Man on the other hand thinks that we need more of HIS stuff. He's worse than a women who's obsessed with shoes...and in case you're wondering, he owns more shoes than I do.

So what do I do?

He's walking around the house today like this...



*SIGH*

So that's why I'm warning you about the situation. If I end up in jail for whacking off his pee pee, please come visit me.(And I'm not talking about whacking off his pee pee in a fun, happy kind of way.)

WE NEED TO FIX THIS FUCKING HOUSE UP OR IT'S GOING TO FALL DOWN AROUND OUR HEADS FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!!!!

IN matters of money, Mr.Man and I are TOTAL opposites. He never knew what it was like to do without. I did. I worked for everything I had as a kid. I wore hand-me-downs. That's the main reason I learned how to sew. I told Grammie that the pants I'd gotten from my cousin Debbie were too big. She took me into her living room and cranked up the old treadle sewing machine. She taught me how to sew and alter my clothes to fit me.
Necessity.
I used to pick potatoes every fall to buy winter clothes and boots.
Do you have ANY idea how much fun THAT is?



We would get up and be out in the field by six and then we'd leave the field at six in the evening. There would be a morning coffee break then lunch and an afternoon coffee break. You'd eat breakfast before you came in the morning and you'd get dinner after you got home.
I'd be covered in dirt, usually stripping my clothes off on the porch. All the dirt came from shaking the tops off the potatoes before picking them into the basket. Six baskets would fill a barrel. One barrel earned you fifty cents. You'd get red tickets with a number on them, your number, and when the men would pick up the barrels, they'd place your ticket in the ticket box. My uncle would count the tickets in the evening and tally up how many barrels you'd picked. IN fact, I have the very ticket box that he used. I inherited it it when Grammie died, along with her handwritten homemade recipes cookbook and the green Aladdin kerosene lamp they used at the kitchen table before they got electric.

Normally I didn't pick that many barrels when I was younger...between the ages of seven and eleven. But I really took off when I hit twelve, picking as many as fifty or sixty barrels a day. That's roughly four or five barrels an hour. It's pretty back breaking work...especially for a kid.

But anyway...Mr.Man has no concept of working for every single thing like that. He got a lot handed to him and never knew what it was like to do without.

So we disagree on money. He calls me the "Tightwad Swede."

Well dammit! Someone has to be tight around here!



What other reason would I have for cooking every night of the week? or running around turning lights off? Meh...we will NEVER agree on money. I'm telling you right now.

I'm tired today. I got up at 4:30 and I haven't stopped. Miss KIA went on a trip for math with her school. What King's Island has to do with math, I'll never know, but that's where they went. So I got her off to the school, stopped by the grocery store, came home and put a roast in the crock pot, took the rest of the brood to school, returned home and cleaned the entire down stairs and did two loads of laundry.

All before eleven.

Since then I've been going through paperwork for Little League and typing up a few things I need to get mailed out.

Little Beatle has a game tonight and since we ate at the concession stand last night I need to have dinner ready before we leave tonight.

Mr.Man needs clean pants...I need clean panties...stupid fucking laundry.

(Just a small glimpse into the boring reality of my life.)

Contrary to what you might think, it's not always glamorous excitement with me...heh heh heh.

You know...if it weren't for the stretch marks on my belly, I'd be naked all the time. I'm just saying. I am really not inhibited in that way. Nudity doesn't bother me at all.
Now having sex in front of someone...that's just rude.
I'm a walking contradiction perhaps.
I don't expect perfection from someone else's body but I do my own? Well..not really. If I trust a person then I can be naked in front of them and it won't bother me for them to see my imperfections.
I am not a prude, and nudity doesn't bother me, but I have been in a position where a friend of mine started having sex with her boyfriend while I was in the room with them.
I wasn't consented...I wasn't acknowledged...they just started doing it.

Granted, they were under the blankets in her bed, but still...it was VERY uncomfortable and it bothered me. I felt VERY awkward.
She and her boyfriend thought it was funny.
Personally, it reeked of desperation to me.
They seemed eager to prove something, what ever that might have been, and it lacked class...(in my personal opinion).

Of course sex is a very personal thing for me.
Yeah...I can get my freak on and all that but sex to me isn't just about a cock and various places to stick it in. It's an experience I lose myself in completely. I don't want anyone witnessing it unless I'm totally involved in them...skin to skin...heartbeat to heartbeat...pores breathing in every moment of it...wet, soft and vulnerable.

No one else is invited...

AND they have to have that connection with me or I can't do it. Strange I know but it's how it is...

So have you ever been in a situation where someone has just started having sex in front of you?
I'm not ashamed to admit it bothers me. I think it's one of the line's people shouldn't cross. It's too intimate and beautiful to cheapen that way.

How did I manage to go from Mr.Man's money habits to this subject?



I need a drink.

Has anyone ever tried this kind of beer?



Let me say...it's pretty damn tasty. In fact I plan to pick some more up for after the ball game tonight. I think I've convinced Mr.Man to make a fire in the fire pit and fire pit time wouldn't be complete without a cold brew or six..lol.

With that said...this is my mood today...



Mr.Man is getting ready to leave the house. Will he be leaving with the checkbook OR his pee pee?

Tune in Monday to find out the conclusion to "Fifty Whacks to the Pee Pee!"