It’s official. You are hearing it here first. I am no longer a teen. I turned the big 20 yesterday and sorry for not making a big deal out of it - but I just felt that it was an ending of sorts and definitely not one I wanted to face. I’ll try to explain a bit later in this post, but first I do need to say thank you for the boys who actually did remember my big day with out my typical pomp and circumstance I usually throw around here on my bday and Christmas’. I say that somewhat sarcastically… I just have not been one to announce the big day like that. It isn’t even a chance to test you guys to see if you will remember - I just think that bdays aren’t that big of a deal anymore - and I actually feel funny asking for things on that day, especially in today’s economy and so close to Christmas. I figure I’d prefer a Christmas gift anyway (grin). That’s what my family basically did: waited until Christmas and then made up for there somewhat pathetic bday gifts, always done at the last minute while shopping for the turkey. Not that I’m complaining. Much. So thank you: Tiffy, SBJ, Karl (VERY sweet gift, sweetie!!), Uncle Randy, and those of you who wished me happy Bday on our calls together. **MUAH**

But this year it was really one of those things I did not want to mention on here because I knew that if I announced it, I would have to figure out what I was going to do about the big departure from TEEN wet dream into the world of just wet dreams. I thought for awhile that I would retire once I reached the point where I could no longer call myself a teen. And I’m aware of the fact that there are some characters on Niteflirt who never age, and no one really cares … but just as my braces will eventually come off (less than a year and counting) so must I lose the “teen” in my name. How will it sound when someone calls me up and asks me how old I am, and I say “twenty.”? *click* I figured that retirement was as good an option as any. I wasn’t going to go suddenly. I would have had a party. Balloons, ice cream cake, a big candle in the shape of a penis. You know the kind. *wink* But yeah, I figured turning twenty was a sign to hang up my phone and headset and go into retirement.

I’m not going to retire. Come on. I’m not even done with school now, and there is a recession going on out there — and retail is not having a great time. Retail is what I’m best suited for, being a ‘young adult’ and all. So I’m going to sit still for a bit longer. I may change over to a different domain, but more than likely that will happen once my braces come off and I’ll turn into a young adult and leave the teen thing behind me. Even Peter Pan had to face growing up , you know.

So school is going. I got a perfect score on my Geography Map Quiz by the way. Ask me where the Canary Islands are. Go ahead, ask me! Geography is about to hit an intense level. We’re learning all about currents and wind patterns and other stuff I can’t even repeat…that’s how lost I am. But as lost as I am, I’m still getting a solid B+ in that class. After our field trip this weekend, I’m sure I’m getting an A+. We went to see the butterfly um .. what is it called? Farm? Reserve? and it was by far the prettiest thing I had ever seen. Then we went and looked at wave patterns on the beach. I’m not lying. We looked at wave patterns and then we also picked up rocks and tried to figure out what caused what topography. I kept on looking around this certain bend after hearing that that is where Santa Barbara University was. Can you imagine going to school on the damn beach? Come ON! Is it possible to get any work done at all? I saw quite a few students out tanning and surfing that day and also quite a few walking through the forests where the Butterflies hung in their little pods from the Eucalyptus trees. I have to go back there with Jackson. He’d freak out over the waves, but he’d really dig the Monarch butterflies, and the hike would wear his ass out big time!

English is a joke. I had mentioned once that I loved my teacher, but that love has quickly turned into a hate I can’t even express. I’m going to mention something in here now knowing that my readers will be sensitive and not ask me to do some sort of warped fantasy. I can do a fantasy about any other kinky freaky professor except for this guy - because it’s just too real to the truth. This is what happened. I wrote a paper about milk and how it’s not a good thing to drink. It’s an argumentative paper, I’m not going to get into it because I’m bored with it already. It’s a good paper but … yeah. Anyway - so I’m talking about milk and the milk commercials and I mention that it’s kind of sexual in nature, the whole milk above the lip thing and sexy models in these tank tops and fit bodies drinking it and blah blah blah. I don’t mean anything other than “sexual” in a very LOOSE term. Why the fuck did my teacher write on my paper “some people call it cum shots?” ???!!! Why???!!! Can anyone tell me in what world is that appropriate? I’m so not even lying. Not only did he write this on my paper, but then he announced it in my class that he wrote it on my paper too. While I was busy trying to figure out why the fuck he felt he could write something on my paper like that (to my knowledge he is not a caller!) I started to feel the eyes of every fuckin male student in my class looking at me wondering what it is that I knew that made the teacher write something like that on my paper. Seriously, I could feel them assessing me - checking me out in a very uncomfortable fashion. There are fantasies and then there are realities, and this, my friends, is a most creepy and gross reality. Before that gross comment my teacher has had other stupid things to say, too. About the Holocaust: “Get over it - lots of people have suffered.” About Koreans, “I didn’t know my son was mine … he ate so much rice I thought my wife had an affair with the postman … he’s Korean.” About Black people, “I told my friend once - hey - at least I can change color!” you get the picture. I was getting a C+ in my English class after I got straight B’s on my papers and Essay - but then I missed handing in a paper and got a C+. I handed in my paper last week though and I got a A- on it, but got counted down to a B+ due to it being late. Hey - I’ll fuckin take it. But I won’t take comments of cum shots on my paper. I still feel dirty - and I have done/talked about far more dirtier things in my life, trust me. Just somethin’ about a comment like that outside of niteflirt makes me way uneasy. Strange, huh?

In order to process all this stress of school and work and life and the uncertainty of our futures - I’ve taken my stress to the gym. I hired a nazi, let’s call her Elsa, and she kicks my ass 2 -3 times a week. I went to see her today and my finger tips hurt. I stepped up and down on a platform holding on to a weight that made me immediately decide against breast implants. My goodness - I practically tipped over holding onto 10 pound wheel of a weight. How ever do you big titty women keep your balance? Elsa says things to me like, “Do you want the easy way to do this next exercise, or are you ready for a challenge?” Damn her. How quickly she learns. All you have to do is put “easy” in front of something and “challenge” in front of the other choice - and you know I will do it. “So CeCe - do you want to deep throat me on your knees which is the easy way? Or do you want the challenge? You’ll be on the bed - on your back - with your head over the edge - and I’ll lower my 10 inches down your throat and you try not to gag. Which way do you want?” Shit! 10 inches of course!!! lol. In all honesty, though, I’m competitive as hell. It’s a good thing most of the time, but often I just set myself up for pain. Which I am experiencing now. But I love it. I absolutely love it. I love lifting weights, and doing girl pull ups, and doing balance work and core work and going 4.2 MPH on the treatmill on a 6.0 incline for 45 minutes. I enjoy sweating like a pig - walking out of the gym past all the muscle dudes, and knowing that I kicked my own ass and that I’m strong and capable and sweaty! It’s a great, great feeling. It’s also a great way to release a whole lot of worry, anger, grief, pain, etc. with out hurting anyone!

There are so many ways that we can deal with discomfort, hurt, stress, anger - and most of these ways that we use to cope will land us in the hospital soon enough. Cigarettes, overeating, stress, tempers, destructive lifestyles, not asking for help (or directions), etc. are just really counter-productive. One of the ladies I met while working at the gym a few years ago was diagnosed with Lung Cancer. I house sat for her - and she was so alive and energetic and … I can not even bear to call her up and talk with her. But I know I need to because she’s not going to be here for long. I promised myself that I would not be one of those x-smokers who nagged people to quit, and I’ve really kept that promise. But today I’m just going to end my long waited for post by saying that there are other ways to relieve stress. You could go look at some monarch butterflies or take a walk on the beach if you live in sunny southern California. You could join a gym - all the money you’d spend on cigs will surely pay for a membership, won’t it? You could also masturbate to a favorite movie or pictures (I will be updating my galleries very soon!!! I mean it this time!!!) or even call me for some release. However you decide to release some stress - I hope that you are able to release some so that you are more able to enjoy this holiday season coming up. You’ve all been such great gifts to me this year and I appreciate each and every one of you. Even calls that weren’t “perfect” or “five star” quality taught me a lot about myself and helped me to grow into the mature 20 year old I am today. Happy Holidays!! May your days and nights be Merry & Bright!

Tuesday: 11:00AM - 3:00PM, MIDNIGHT - 3:00AM - (later if needed)
Wednesday: 12:00PM - 3:00PM, off and on Wednesday evening - Thanksgiving preparations under way.
Thursday: Will try to log in once everyone passes out from the Turkey - but no promises. If I can make it it will be after 7:00PM PST.
Friday: TBA
Saturday: TBA
Sunday: TBA
*Feel free to make an appointment or email me if you need me to be available during a specific time for you. I will do my best to accommodate. *

Update to schedule: 11/26/08 — my late nites and school is catchin up with me! I’m actually going to take a nap. Yeah. A nap. It does a body good! I will be logging in and out intermittently throughout the next few days - but will try to keep you abreast of my comings and goings. How much innuendo can I use in a sentence?

Thought I would quickly make a brief post updating everyone on updates, ytwd radio, my schedule for this week, and Jackson.
Come on - you didn’t seriously think I didn’t realize that most of you are wondering about Jackson, did you? I know who carries this blog and holds all of your affections in his little dirty paw!

First things first. It’s taking me awhile to figure out this whole podcast thingee. Seems the most simple part was figuring out audacity and adding tracks and actually talking. LOL. There is quite a bit more that I need to do - and it seems I completely didn’t take all of those other factors into account. I apologize. While I could just throw up a link here and have you listen as you did to the introduction - I really don’t like doing things like that. It doesn’t look the way I want it to - and the other alternatives would take more effort than I currently have the time to take. There is a bday celebration that is due to start in about 2 hours, and I have been spending this entire weekend on this project. CeCe needs to buy a card, purchase a present, and be part of the family for the evening. At least for a few hours. So … sorry that I broke my promise of the YTWD Radio jumping off on Monday. While it will jump off sometime soon, I hope, this monday is not the “sometime” I had originally planned on. My apologies.

Which brings me to my schedule. I usually try to log in on Mondays by 8:00PM. Due to the aforementioned bday Celebration I will be logging in later. Probably around 11:00PM - though I could show up a tad bit earlier. Count on me by 11:00PM and no one will be disappointed, okay?

At the risk of sounding really …. emotional (?) let me just end this post. I’m so disappointed that I couldn’t follow through on this project. Even though I know that eventually I’ll be able to deliver it to you - I still feel like I’ve made yet one more promise that I haven’t followed through on. I hate that I have become that kind of a person to ‘you’.

I will be on tonight and ready to work. Don’t worry - I’ll be in a much more upbeat mood. LOL. Just having one of those moments - and felt that expressing it here so I could let it go would be appropriate.

Oh - wait - Jack. He’s fine. His stitches are still in - he’s chewed through 2 things of value so far (and counting) and is currently napping at my feet looking all innocent and white (though he hasn’t had a bath since the operation and can’t until the stitches “dissolve”) and reminding me how lucky I am to have him. He’s brought a lot of joy to my life - which is really much more valuable than anything his teeth find to destroy. At least that’s what I keep trying to tell myself. *wink*

My parents are kinda … hippie-ish, I guess you would say. I have mentioned it before - the shag carpet straight out of The Brady Bunch (green carpeting at that!), the vinyl (records) of bearded men, my mother’s fascination with monks even though she is a devoted Lutheran, my father’s campfire retreats he would hold during most of the summer, and the pig roasts we would have at the family reunions. Wait - that’s more gross than Hippie-ish, right?

My 3 brothers tried their hardest to introduce me to other music - and some of it stuck - but I have to admit that I’m a bit back dated. Blame my parents.

I don’t remember ever getting the “talk” from my mother, either. I remember one day I woke up - and I had a little talk with my mother, and she led me to the bathroom and showed me my supplies under the sink. That was it. Until later that evening. My mother informed me around 5:00pm that Wednesday evening that our family would be going out to celebrate. When I asked her what the blessed event was that needed such celebratory hoopala, she smiled a sneaky little smile and told me to wear a pretty dress. My 3 brothers, my parents and I scrambled into the car and drove into town, sat down at the local diner and ordered whatever we wanted from the 2 page glossy menu. Before the waiter served us, my mother made the announcement. “CeCe became a woman today.” My brothers looked at me. Then they looked at me again. My eldest brother snorted a little, and the 2 others repeated the sound and added, “She don’t look no different to me!” to the mix. I was humiliated. Not only was I wearing what could only be described as a diaper, but I was also humiliated in front of my entire family. I think the other people at the diner came over later to offer their congratulations, too. I never forgot it. I might have mentioned it before in this blog - and if I did - well - it’s part of my healing to talk about these things…at least you are just reading it - you didn’t actually have to experience it like I did. *sad face*

So when my little cousin informed me that her best friend had “started” - I took it as a personal mission to make sure we celebrated the event appropriately. We went to pick her up and delivered her a care package of carefree, chocolate, midol and a sympathy card. We also burned a disc with all sorts of songs we felt would be appropriate for her little journey into womanhood; Genie in a bottle, Breaking Dishes, More Than a Woman, I’m Every Woman, Emotions, Girl…You’ll be a Woman Soon, and a few others. I told the poor little camper that lunch was on me - and that she could choose the place. We drove about 5 minutes while I threw out suggestions. She settled finally on In and Out - a local burger joint. I thought that maybe she wanted a milkshake or something, but she chose a diet coke (??). She calmly informed me that the blessed event had ended as soon as it had started and that she was fine and really didn’t see the big deal. I laughed - but didn’t dare destroy her dream. She also believes that texting boys in the middle of the night is innocent and the only bad thing about low rider jeans is that you can’t bend over with out showing the crack of your ass. I appreciate the innocence of 7th graders. When I played “Edge of 17″ for her and announced that Stevie Nicks was someone she needed to recognize as pure talent - she grinned and told me her parents listened to her all the time. Hmph. As I ate my salad I suddenly realized that I have somehow squeezed past this “girl” stage into this woman stage - with out so much as a dinner or announcement. It didn’t happen that night my parents took me out to dinner - but happened somewhere between graduation and eating a salad with 2 13 year olds who liked thousand island dressing on their french fries.

I grabbed a near by marker and threw a hair brush to my 2 pals and taught them how to do a Stevie Nicks song with style. “Just like the white winged dove….” we sang loudly and out of tune… and giggled while singing “ooooh baby oooh”.

I can’t wait for the next “dinner”.

Until then - I’ll be working tonight until Midnight - and will log on for a bit tomorrow morning before my orthodontist appointment. Tomorrow evening I’ll be working until Midnight or later if need be. I’ll update again to let you in on my schedule this weekend.

Talk to you soon… oh - and … If you so desire - listen to a little bit of “edge of 17″. It’s a fabulous song. No hair brush required. *wink*

It was when I was just 6 years old that I realized that I had a little bit of a problem. I was sensitive. I was so sensitive and so wanting to be liked by the “right” people that I often found myself doing things for that little bit of whatever one can call it. I got my feelings hurt very easily - especially when someone was cross at me, raised their voice at me to correct me - or didn’t like me for whatever reason. I think the word that was used then was “cry baby” and my mother just translated that into “sensitive” to make it sound almost like a quality and not so much like a fault.

It was in Kindergarten that the big event happened that would change my life forever. This cute little dark haired boy who we will call from this point on Mikey S. - told me that he would give me a shiny quarter if I lifted up my skirt. I had already been reprimanded earlier that day by a teacher who told me not to hang upside down on the jungle gym in a skirt because “good girls don’t do that” - and prior to that humiliating event, had been asked to go steady by a 2nd grader who later turned out to be gay. When I say that the first 2 years of school shaped my life tremendously, please believe me. So Mikey held up a nice shiny quarter and as I was contemplating what I would do (ok, ok - I lifted up my skirt) in walks Mrs. Harden - our teacher. She gasped. Seriously gasped. Sometimes people say “gasp” and they mean some inward surprise reaction that they picked up but I heard my teacher audibly gasp - like “haaaaaaha” and quickly pulled Mikey from the scene of the crime returning to pull me into a corner where she lectured me for the second time that day. Good girls do not show their panties to boys, she told me. What she didn’t say was that I had shown my panties to a boy so I was not “good” anymore. For a second I did think to ask her if good boys offered good girls quarters to see their panties, but I couldn’t think after the label she had bestowed on me. To make matters just that much worse, my father (The Reverend) was called in to school to speak to the teacher about my obvious deviance. It was a good thing that he stopped on by because I needed a ride home after I vomited in the water fountain from the absolute horrible shame I felt. I remember thinking as I got sick that the worst part of the whole ordeal (2nd only to my father having to come hear about his slutty daughter) was that I didn’t even get my quarter!

My father never spoke to me about it. I suppose he figured I had already made myself sick from the shame of the whole ordeal that he would just let it slide - but I never quite got over it and secretly always hated Mikey S for never having gotten so much of a lecture for his part in my defilement. He moved away (thankfully) in 3rd grade so I didn’t have to see him again - but I recently saw him at a wedding. He was pretty cute, actually, but I was not to be fooled twice (shame on me). I walked over to the table that he was seated at and put out my hand.

“I’d like my quarter, please”, I told him.

He laughed while eyeing me up and down - reached into his pocket and handed me a quarter, not even taking into consideration the rate of inflation. I thought that it would seem bigger than it actually was - but it just sat in my hand like some cheap representation of the years of shame I had lived through. I smiled, thanked him, and returned back to my seat across the banquet hall to the accompaniment of laughter. There was no water fountain, no quiet father driving me home, and sadly - no sense of victory in the exercise. For years I had hung on to something that really was insignificant…because I… am a cry baby sensitive.

I’ve tried for the past few years to be assertive. or a little assertive as the case more than likely is. I’ve been in a few bad positions due to my reluctance to practice these types of skills. I realize that there is a part of me that passively lives and when I see that trait in other people it angers me. Even in the most submissive relationships there is a strength in both partners, you know.

There is a situation that I’m going through right now that will soon be over (thankfully) and all I can really say (because really - people will “get it” with out knowing all the juicy boring details, honest) is that what bothers me the most is how I became in this situation a person who was lifting her skirt up for a quarter. Somehow I felt that I had to go along with it - maybe because he was a Professor - an elder - someone who I was dependent on for giving me a grade or whatever. But I did it. I fuckin pulled up my skirt and held my hand out for the quarter…which I never recieved. It’s not the quarter, Mikey S - and Professor. It really isn’t. It’s the fact that I lifted up my skirt - and that somehow I felt that I needed to do what I was told to do and as a result paid the price. In a fantasy being overwhelmed is sexy. But in real life sometimes being overwhelmed just makes me sick.

Thanks for letting me get that off my chest. This too shall pass.

Oh - I guess this would be a P.S. I can see a whole lot of .25 cent tributes coming my way today… there. I ruined the joke… it’s not quite funny enough yet. Well - actually the quarter story is funny now - but the other situation I eluded to isn’t quite funny yet. Remember my sensitivity issues, please. *lol*

I have started and stopped and deleted and backspaced over thousands of words on here tonight. The thing is, I really don’t want to write something vapid just so that I write - but the things that are going through my head probably aren’t the type of things that one should share on a public blog. I just feel stuck again. I go through this every once in a while and there it is…again… that blank page staring back at me with TONS of stuff slamming into me like some pile up on the 405 Freeway during rush hour. I have so much to say and have no way of knowing or trusting in myself to edit it. It’s just annoying as hell. Really annoying.

I haven’t written in my personal journal (and remember - I have tons of them) in such a long time. That probably would help a bit. If I wrote in there I would feel like I’m writing things and feel protected against writing things in here that I shouldn’t be writing about. It’s not that they are that kinky or sexy or whatever. You all know me better than that by now. I just have other people’s privacy to worry about and not sure how much of my life I feel like pouring out onto these pages right now.

I wanted to write about my mother. Then I wanted to write about my father. Then I wanted to tie up all the things I said about each parent and somehow have that explain why I am the way I am. I’m realizing now that if I were to put it that way it would be a Talk Show topic. My mother did this. I thought this. My father did this. I thought this. I now think this way about all women. I now think this way about all men. Thank you for being a guest on the Oprah Winfrey Show, CeCe. Tomorrow we’ll discuss the men of Niteflirt - and the women who serve them. I mean … how absolutely deep and boring can I get? (don’t answer that).

I just can’t do it right now. Just know that there is a deep and spiritual post in me ready to be written at some point - but I can’t do it right now. It’s too - scrambled up. And I’m too - tired to place my tiles in a way to make the most out of my letters. I can’t help wanting to and I’m starting to force every single thing that flies off my fingertips. Makes for really lousy writing. There’s nothing worse than knowing you’re writing like crap and not being able to stop yourself from writing it.

Speaking of writing - I wish I would actually start to write something in my Screenwriting class. And if my professor is reading this right now: You’re killing me softly, Sir. You’re killing me. I woke up late today and I didn’t even miss anything. I’m trying really hard not to let that convince me to continue waking up late - and trust me, it’s hard. I walked in and we were watching upcoming attractions. I have watched so many movies now - and written so many plot points to those movies that I really feel … restless. I want to know the rules. I want to know what comes next. I want to start writing and I want to know how to pitch stuff. I want to be sitting here working on my screenplay - not struggling over how to introduce my parents in a blog entry with out it sounding drab, typical teenage angst-y, and boring. I don’t want to come up with any more “ideas” - I want to write. I find myself eyeing the people in my class, particularily one loud mouthed girl who always has an answer to whatever. I want her to shut up - and the only way I can think of that to happen is if we all start to write already. I’m beginning to think that God doesn’t exist because surely he would take pity on me already. Wouldn’t he?

I think I have a Math quiz tomorrow so I should end this. I’m inches away from deleting this - and maybe after I publish this entry I will instantly wish that I had… but I’m really needing to at least have some proof that my head is still attached and that my heart is pounding away in my chest begging to be let out, you know? If I just hang onto all of these feelings I start to slowly go a bit mad. I’m ready to blow, honestly, so I guess this post is just letting out a bit of steam. Keeping the pressure in to let everything soak in for a bit - but letting a little bit of steam out every now and again so I don’t lose my … head. lol. Good analogy? Ok - a bit weak … but it’s the best that I can do.

Such a cuddly kittenish voice makes the wild erotic fantasies you are hearing even more incredible. Email her first with what you need and she will amaze you.

Thanks so much to my darling sweet girl for this feedback. When we accidently got disconnected, sweet Scarlett said with a smile so wide I could FEEL it on the other end of the phone, “Well, now I’ll get to leave you MORE feedback!” Could anyone be any sweeter, is what I’d like to know! Scarlett did email me before our fantasy together and I had a bit of self doubt that I’d be able to to come through for her. I shoulda had more confidence because once we started I was off and running! I can not wait for next time, that’s for sure! Can I just further embarrass you, Scarlett, and say that um … when you said that you had … er… finished - you sounded so damn cute. It was like a confession more than a declaration of accomplishment! “um … oops… I’m done, CeCe…” I must have been on a roll and you hated to interupt my story, huh? Don’t worry … we can have part II next time, k?

I really need to go to bed now. I’m up way too late and no matter what time I close my eyes there will still be a math quiz waiting for me when I open my eyes. Math is like that.