Whew. It’s dusty in here!

I know that I have not been around for years. Or a year. It’s been a hell of a long time. But I made a pact with myself. I’m not going to tell you what that pact is. Because as many of you know, I often make pacts with myself, others, and occasionally the devil, and I very rarely keep those pacts which explains why I have currently have no soul and my first 3 children will be Satan’s. I kid. Sort of.

So here we are again. I’ve missed you. And, oddly enough, I’ve missed this blog. It’s always been a bit of an outlet for me. But sometimes, when I put enough unneeded pressure on myself, it becomes a chore. And then I avoid it. Or, enough time goes by and I forget how cathartic it is to write and then pretty soon it’s been a year. Or, I find myself being extremely negative and really outlandishly rude and debbie downer-ish and can’t stand the words coming from my fingers and make a vow to only write when I’m feeling more positive and pretty soon a year has gone by. It’s amazing how fast time goes by. And it’s just not when you’re old, young people often feel the blur of the seasons, too. We’re just in denial, drunk, or preoccupied on other things and don’t mention it. In my literature class 2 semesters ago I came across a lovely quote: Optima dies . . . prima fugit — “The best days are the first to flew”. Yeah. I’m still trying to grasp the full meaning of that, too. Bonus points if you know which novel has this quote as its epigraph.

The past few months – ok…the past year has been filled with many things obsessive. Many of you probably already are familiar with my obsession with all things cosmetic. I kind of OD’d a bit on the whole make up thing, although I will willingly take any Inglot palettes anyone wishes to donate to the cause. I sort of found myself in a nail polish flurry the past few months where I found my modest collection of 20 nail polishes proliferate into a collection of just about at last count 600. A few days ago I stumbled onto a new obsession.

I’m not exactly sure how it happens – these fetishes. I find it insightful, alluring, entertaining, intriguing, …. to ask my callers at times where a particular “like” came from. It seems obvious for some things – a panty fetish is revealed to be connected to first seeing panties and instantly sprouting a hard on connecting the two things together in fantasy matrimony till death do you part. Other things a bit more complex. Balloon popping? Gas Pedals? asphyxiation? I can connect every thing I’ve wanted to collect into a single solitary moment, suspended in my mind by pleasure seeking threads. When I was quite young I remember having dreams of colored tights in my dresser. Every night I would go to bed and dream of them – pink, yellow, blue, every color of the rainbow. I would wake, run to my dresser, and to my disappointment find that my dreams never came true. When I see make up in rainbow color order I feel powerless. I need to have every color, regardless if it’s in my right color group or not. If I start collecting a specific brand of nail polish, I have to have ROYGBIV colors first before embarking on the other glitters and other spectrums of colors. It’s a rule – one that my friends find amusing but that I find a bit like being in a self inflicted expensive prison.

A few days ago I remembered playing on a friend’s typewriter she had “inherited” from her grandfather. It was a big, clunky black heavy thing – and we would hunt and peck out silly words on pieces of white construction paper, not knowing any better. When a mistake was made we would backspace backspace backspace and x, x, x over the offending word or words and then start over. Our typed words became a sort of distressed piece of art I suppose, but to us it was just a funny, old thing that smelled like mold, that would make funny click clack ding noises that we would play on. Until a few days ago.

In my creative writing class we had to come up with an author we wanted to study and then we were to research him or her and write like them. I picked, of course, Carrie Bradshaw. She wrote on a MAC lap top in front of her window of her New York Brownstone Apartment. And she wrote about sex. It really was a no brainer. But I still looked up other author’s I admired – real authors – not figments of the author’s imagination, as Carrie Bradshaw is to Candace Bushnell. Some wrote long hand on yellow legal pads (Toni Morrison). Some wrote on their computers and others, like Hemmingway, Burroughs, Plath, wrote their masterpieces on manual typewriters.

And so the search has begun. I’m determined to find a manual typewriter. Perhaps a Remington. This one has colored glass keys. She’s lovely!

Or maybe a Royal.

There is, for me at least, the holy grail which is the Hermes 3000, a mint green manual typewriter, rumored to type like a dream.
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I’d like a few electric typewriters from the 60′s or 70′s, too. Something that might sit on the desk in the office of Madmen, perhaps.

I have no desire to have a typewriter that doesn’t function. I don’t want it to be for looks. I want to use it. I want to hear it. I want to smell it. So there you have it. You’re the first to know of this new collection that I have been drawn to. A door in to my newest fetish. I figured I’d invite you in, as many of you have invited me in through your front doors to your fetishes through out the years. Take your shoes off. Stay a bit. Let’s talk of the best days. Before they flee.

I’m pretty sure that I went an entire month with out writing on my blog. An. Entire. Month. That’s just shocking. Seriously. I LOVE writing. I love writing so much that I’m intending on making a career of it. But yet I have not written in a simple blog for an entire month. Longer, actually. But no post whatsoever for the month of November. Which happened to be my birthday month even. But since I’m no longer getting older in the magic world we call “Niteflirt”, not calling attention to my birthday actually worked in my favor. Yup. I’m STILL barely legal and still just 18! Tah Dah!

I could write a post about that. But I won’t. Although at this point, I’m sure many of you are just happy to be reading anything I write about!

What I want to say is that I’m knee deep in finals week. Today will be my very first final. And if you all could just take a moment out of your day and say a little prayer for me (Dionne Warrick style) around 1:00PM PST, I’d appreciate it. I’ll be attempting to write 3 short essays in about 80 minutes for my English Literature class. Hopefully I’ll be successful, but I’m not good at writing under pressure (obviously).

All in all, this semester of school has gone extremely well. I’m sitting on a 100 percent right now in Math class. Yeah. 100 percent. Which means on every test I’ve done I’ve gotten 100 percent on. Can I say that any more times? Meanwhile in my upper level English class I’ve received a B on my last essay. Which really isn’t THAT surprising considering I suck at essays. Well, I don’t suck, they just aren’t my ‘thing’. I’ve really enjoyed this class though, and I’d love to nail the final and walk out of the class with an A. I deserve it. And then there’s the Anthropology class, that even with an excellent tutor (thank you Dr. Benway!) I’m still struggling with all the terms and stuff I’m forced to learn. Axis. Coccyx, Tarsus, Occipital, Gracile, Robust, Sternum, Calcaneus, phalanges, metatarsals, temporal, deciduous… seriously. It’s a damn 1 credit lab class and I feel like I’m in medical school. Haven’t been surrounded by that many skeletons and skulls in – well, forever, really. When I’m done cramming all of this information into my head I’ll impress you with some of the things I’ve learned (do you know why your clavicle is S shaped? I do. ). It really is fascinating, this human body. And I am really (despite my bitching and complaining) so excited to be in a position to learn all about so many different things. Going to school is by far one of the smartest things I’ve ever done and I’m so absolutely blessed and thankful to have a ‘job’ that allows me to continue my educational goals. That was what I would have written in November. A big huge Thank You to all of my clients and friends.
But yeah… I didn’t.

So I’m almost done. And then I’m going to take a little bit of a vacation. Twice. But more on that later. For now know that I’m thinking of all of you, and even though my schedule is a bit fucked at the moment, it should get a bit clearer in less than a week. I am still logging on during the evenings, and lately I’ve been staying on overnight. I can’t promise I’ll hear the phone ring at 3:00AM, but I have been getting up regularly around 5:30 thanks to my alarm clock (wink wink nudge nudge to you know who for being my alarm clock every morning practically!) I’ll update some things around here after Thursday’s last final and settle down long enough to put up a working schedule. At least. I hope.

Oh, and Manic Make up Monday became more of a Manic Finals Mayhem. I’ll postpone that until maybe next Monday. Or not. It’s Christmas time, maybe I’ll have every Monday in December be Make Up Monday! ahaha. Remind me to tell you all about my massive makeup collection. I make it seem all innocent and cute and in some little make up case with a zipper, but in reality my make up collection takes up more drawers than my t-shirt, panty, bra and sock drawers combined. Some people collect cars, dolls, coins, stamps, or bones (that’s a small nod to my Anthropology Professor who I think has a crush on me. She’s a girl. More on that later!). I collect lipstick, nail polish, eyeshadows, and other stuff. *shrugs* What can I say?

I can say bye. That’s what I can say. Gotta run and prepare for my final, and go to my prep for my math final that I can fail and still get an A in the class. It’s the small light at the end of a long tunnel – like many of you have been these past few weeks of cramming and studying and crying and moaning and screaming and … oh – wait – that was my last call. My bad. But in all seriousness, thanks for all you have done to make this semester a great one. You’ve kept me sane. I’ll make you proud.

Driving to the location of the castle took far less time than I had anticipated. Carrying only my book bag and computer bag (I would go back to my car to pick up my overnight bag) I walked towards the door where the doorman eagerly opened up the door for me. I couldn’t help the smile that came over my face. I know in NYC doormen are common – but in Los Angeles, or at least where I hang out, doormen are as common as carpoolers. I walked through the door, laughing at the automatic doors that slid open grandly. If you listened closely you could hear Bach’s Fugue playing in the background. Teasing. But it was dramatic. To the front desk I announced who I was – a few clicks of the computer and the studious, business face turned into a welcoming host. “Miss CeCe” he said smiling, and “Welcome…” With the key in my hand I walked to the elevators, growing a bit dizzy from the carpet pattern, slight cigar smoke drifting through the halls from the patio across from the bar, and pure excitement.

“Are you going up?” A kind older gentleman asked me from a elevator.

“Sure!” I said – lightly jogging to the doors, my computer bag thumping gently against my thighs.

“Floor?”

“Um – 5th, please.”

He pushed the button next to his 4 and the doors gently closed. I didn’t know what kind of room would greet me when I stepped off the elevator. Holding my card that would be the key I walked towards my room and stuck the card in the little slot. A red light blinked back at me and I jiggled the handle of the door. Turning the card over I tried again. Several times I wiggled and jiggled that card in the slot before finally glancing again at the door number. Walking down the corridor I tried again. Green light. Entrance was granted. Hopefully I didn’t freak out the person in the other room too badly. I hurried through the door of my room just in case.

(Read on …)

So just a quick note to say – yeah, I’m still up. I’m writing a paper. I’m on page one. So I’m going to get back to that shortly. BUT – I couldn’t help but mention how blogging isn’t such a bad thing sometimes because it brings me that much closer to all of you. I have to talk about N. for a bit (I won’t use your whole name – don’t worry – and until I give you your own nickname – N. it is. ) So N. calls me up and tells me he’s been stalking me – waiting for a chance to talk to me. He shows me his CeCe collection that makes me blush. He has picture galleries, videos, and little voice samples – and direct quotes from my latest blog on sharing my bed. “have you kicked him off your bed yet?” he asks me during our conversation. It always takes me a second to realize that he’s actually talking about my journal and that this means that he has in fact read the whole bloody thing and remembered the important details. And then he tells me a few important details of his own. And so we talk about our pets – and then we have phone sex – and while he makes sure I’m going to be okay – we talk more about everything. Business and school and home and growing up and cats and dogs and mice and men. And then we have more phone sex. And before we leave we talk and cuddle some more. I feel fortunate that the “mundane” things that I feel I sometimes write about on here – are things that make me that much more endearing to all of you. I’m glad that you can get a glimpse into what type of person I am – and that you can use that glimpse to either wait for a time when we can talk, or move on to the less than mundane person down the block. I like that every now and then (more times than not!) I get a caller on the other end of the phone that has memorized the top 5 posts, knows the few who comment and doesn’t dare join in for fear of never leaving the comment section, and yeah, knows the name of my dog. I love that this freedom somehow lends itself to most of you having the freedom to share with me – your fantasies, your kinks, your plans for the day or a few laughs about …well, anything. So – yeah. Somebody’s watching me. I’m glad it’s you.

I’m not sure what this weekend is going to hold – but it is going to be an adventure. One of my callers (He is going to be called Edward Lewis – I just NOW decided. He’ll know why) treated me SPECIFICALLY to a night in a rather upscale hotel with the only conditions being… I must first have hot phone sex with him from the hotel. Movies. Room service. Sauna. Pool. An evening away from home. I invited a friend for a bit – and she will more than likely stay for a long time. She hates hearing people breathing when she sleeps (omg – I have the quirkiest friends!) so she won’t stay the night because I do happen to breathe when I sleep. If she does spend the night, am I wrong to worry about my safety? Anyway, I decided that when she leaves, it might be a great time for me to either catch up on my sleep and take a long hot bath or watch some tv naked on the bed…OR… I could share part of the great time with all of you and log in on Saturday night and have some loud don’t need to hold anything back lets get a little crazy phone sex on Niteflirt. What do you think? Yeah. I decided it was too good an opportunity to not share with you all. So – I’ll know better what the time frame will be but more than likely I’ll sign in sometime around midnight ready to play. Check out time is 10am, isn’t it Edward? If so I’ll probably work 3 hours … 4 if I am able to… and then I will fall into bed, happy, content, and relaxed. Of course I’ll be on sometime tomorrow, too. After first taking a nap as it appears to be one of those all nighters for me. Let’s finish this up.

I got another 100 percent on my Math test today. I got 49 out of 56, but my homework points boosted my 49 to a 56. *whew* See? Why was I so worried. Can I just say that 3 of the questions I got wrong were completely stupid mistakes. I’m not saying I’m stupid, Tiffers, I’m just saying that I made some really careless mistakes. I need to watch those errors. Even my professor was surprised when I got 2 wrong on the first page. “CeCe – you got two wrong on the first page?!?” He said. I took my medicine. I don’t know what happened. So that’s done with. Later today I’ll get my philosophy test back. I’m hoping for a B.

I did have another test that I took. 4 hours of testing to see about my spatial and processing and memory skills. All my test scores came back above average except for my reading comprehension, writing, verbal, spelling (yeah – I’m laughing over that one, too) and … one other one I can’t remember (remember … aha. That will be funny in a few more sentences), in those areas I was far above average into the “gifted” realm. Yeah. Tiffy was fuckin right. I am brilliant. My memory and processing … a little below average. So you see. If I happen to forget who you are the next time you call, it’s not that I wasn’t paying attention, it’s that my memory really isn’t good! Ha! I have a very GOOD excuse/reason. Nah – it goes hand in hand with A.D.D. Bottom line? The Psychologist said I should aim to go to school and get my Master’s degree if I want. That I’m very capable and that I should have no problems with being a successful student. Even my Math competency was above average. yeah. Me and math – who woulda thunk.

So things are beginning to fall into place as far as my plan is concerned. I found out that I probably need to take a foreign language – and most English majors take Spanish for some reason. It’s recommended by one of the schools I’m considering – so… I also have a few more science classes that I need to complete along with my Math courses. Looks like another year and a half AT LEAST – probably 2 years due to the math requirement needed to transfer. Of course, I may get into the school with out having completed all of my math – but before I get a degree I gotta have it somewhere. I’m okay with the time frame. Slow and steady wins the race. Right?

So – I think I’ve pretty much caught everyone up on my life – and sufficiently dwindled more time away from having to write this essay that I don’t even know where to begin. It’s not even an essay, really, because if it was, I’d be done with it already. It’s more of some kind of report. I don’t know what the bleep it is. It’s a pain in my ass is what it is. haha!

Spin tomorrow morning, then class, then training in the late afternoon with the Nazi. Will log in when I’m awake – hopefully before Midnight. Email me before then if you need to. Oh wait – I have an appointment with my D. before then – and THEN training at the gym, nap, then log in. One day I’ll update that schedule of mine. Just remember how you can legally stalk me on twitter and I’ll try to update my niteflirt plans as they become clearer to me.

Talk soon – and thanks all – for the great chats/talks/emails. Mostly, thanks for keeping close watch. It feels good.

My 4 legged Maltese Son Jack has been acting up the past few days.  At first it was just little things, the occasional nip at the ankle – living up to little dog nick names (ankle biters).  Then it proceeded to taking shoes of the family out the doggy door.  And when all of these things resulted in further ignoring and punishing withdrawing of love and attention, Jackson started barking at trees for minutes, refusing to "come" when called, and basically being a spoiled dog. I decided that I had to put my foot down once and for all (away from his teeth) and nip his behavior issues in the bud.

After my spin class I stopped by the bike store and picked up my first pair of bike shoes (I tried them out for the first time on Wednesday.  What a difference they make.  Of course I was immediately stuck on the pedals and couldn’t get unstuck for a minute which was embarrassing…).  As I was going home, I passed a dog care center and stopped in for a look.

Jackson will need to fill out an application (I mean I will have to fill out an application) and then go through a screen process (Jackson will – I am pretty sure I would be able to play nicely with others, even if they are dogs) and if accepted he will be allowed to play in the play group.  I’m thinking one day a week will be a good thing for him.  It’s about all I can afford at this point, and I just want him to get out some of his aggressions.  Oh … let me stop lying.  I seriously want Jackson to get his furry ass beat.  I think if Jackson gets beat a little bit he’ll understand he doesn’t rule the world as I have told him from day one.  *shrugs*  A nice ass beating is all anyone really needs when they get full of themselves is my theory.  Someone has to put his furry little ass in his place — towards the back of the line.  I’m by no means dominant, but even I have had better luck with turning men into submissive subjects than I have had with Jackson.  He’s determined to be the boss no matter what I say.  See if the great dane can teach Jackson a thing or two about being alpha dog.  Grabbing the application and a few brochures, I was pretty sure this was the place for Jackson and I.  Wait a second…

"Do you by any chance have training here?"  I asked the kind lady.

"Yes we do.  The owner is an excellent trainer.  She works with the clicker and uses praise and never raises a hand to the dogs."

Well… that will all change once they meet Jackson, I thought to myself.

"We also have dance class."

"Oh?"

"Yes.  Dance class with the dogs.  They have a great time and it’s really great exercise for dogs and their humans." 

Dear God. "Wow… that sounds…." 

"I know.. it seems silly." Silly was not the word I was thinking, but okay. Silly.  "But the dogs really like it.  The owner has won contests with her dog.  They are really quite good."

Heading out of the door with promises that I would be back with the application & bribe money attached to it, I caught a few of the pictures on the wall.  I didn’t see any dancing dogs, but I did see quite a few happy people with their dogs.  It seemed clean and Mr. Great Dane seemed to be telling me that he’d take REAL good care of Jackson.  In a non romantic sexual way.  Not that there would be anything wrong with that. 

With animals on the brain, I spoke to Mr. Location confused Karl.  Somehow the topic came to talking with the animals, as in ‘What, Lassie? Timmy’s stuck in the well?’ talk to the animals.  We started to name the animals that spoke to humans.  Flipper, Lassie, Gentle Ben, Skippy.  Skippy?  I asked, laughing.  Skippy, Karl insisted.  And together we looked up this Skippy and found him playing the drums, playing the piano, gnawing through rope and cracking the codes on safes.  A Kangaroo that gave kisses and wrapped his razor sharp claws around a poor unsuspecting child.  Everyone should know by now that I am deathly afraid of Kangaroos.  Skippy didn’t help.  Hopping around like some Acid Tripped out Rabbit.  Ugh.

Though I caught the repeats of most of the talk to the animal shows, I still tear up every time I see gentle ben and Grizzly Adams.  It may be the beard (have a thing for those, remember?) or it might just be the Maybe song.  Whatever it is … animals sure can cheer you up even as they frustrate the hell out you, can’t they?  So in the spirit of … I dunno…Jackson getting accepted into Doggy Day Care (hopefully) I thought I would share some of the animals that we can talk to, who get us out of the jams, warn us of children stuck in wells, and entertain us with their musical and dancing abilities.

I will be logged in during the early afternoon tomorrow… then going to writing class.  You can catch me on Friday Evening for sure.  If you have a specific time you’d like to talk to me and are wondering if I’ll be around, you can always set up an appointment and I will get back to you as soon as I can to confirm.

Talk soon!

P.S.  Mr. Counselor… thank you. I still can’t quite believe it. You understand. 

P.P.S.  Everyone else:  I’ll explain in 5-7 days.

P.P.P.S.  Happy Birthday to my best girlie friend in the world, Tee. I hate myself for loving you. It’s a strange kinky type of relationship.