The beginning of this post might read like a scene from some criminal trial.  Where were you on the nights of_______?  What can you tell us about the nights of _____ and _____ and ______ of January, Miss CeCe?  What you mean you don’t recall?  You don’t recall or you don’t wish to disclose the events of the evening of the …well, you know where this is all leading.  I do not have a clue where the time went which is typical CeCe.  I can tell you that a few evenings ago I was captured by my television set and could not tear myself away from the pomp and circumstance except to pee, work out, and eat — probably in that exact order.  I can tell you that when at last I removed myself from the tube o death and brain freeze, I realized that I had not logged in for more than 72 hours and had not spoken/twittered/emailed friends and loved ones (waves to Tiffy) in like forever.  Before that I have no idea what the hell I was doing.  And now it’s the season of "parental visitation" and you may only see me one more time before Easter.  I’m setting your sights low so as to ward off any extreme disappointments.

I can also tell you that I decided, while apparently impaired on some illicit and highly addictive drug, to sign up for an online class and a half.  The half is a class I signed up for to assist me in succeeding in my online class, and the other 1 online class is Health.  And yes, I’m learning about drugs currently.  Illicit ones.  And Tobacco (why didn’t anyone tell me how horrible that shit is for you?  I’ll thank you in 30 years when the risk of me developing lung cancer returns to ‘normal’.  Shesh!  Ever heard of TOUGH LOVE, readers?!).  I learned about penis’ and vaginas last week and was quite taken aback by a rather large ink drawing of a vulva. I had no idea. (makes a mental note to bring hand mirror to bed with her this evening).  Pretty damn interesting.  And I’m a bit more familiar with testes and prostrates, too.  I’d be happy to explain and demonstrate with any of my callers.  All fun aside – this class is truly kicking my ass worse than my nazi trainer at my gym.  Every other day I have to have a chapter read, a quiz taken, and a paper written on some message board where typical students write 3 paragraphs to 10 questions, but CeCe, the over achiever maximum, writes a paragraph PER question, complete with correct citing and … well… punctuation.  For the most part. Then on every Sunday, which is suppose to be a day of rest, football, and relaxation – we have a 75 point test on the chapters we covered during the week.  I’m pulling an A right now in that class – but if I don’t start acing some tests again soon I will be in a bit of a panic.  And even though health isn’t my major and who cares if I get a "B" anyway – I still want to get a good grade in this class because it’s with in my ability to do so. (Eyes her medication with extreme resentment).  I remember the days when I would drop out of that class by now.  Damn it all.  So because of my keen ability to procrastinate like no other, I’m usually reading and writing like an idiot up until 11:59PM the day the assignments are due.  So let’s just say for now that Wednesdays & Fridays are pretty much fucked until around midnight as far as calls are concerned. Even though the tests are all open book, the tests are harder than they would be if I were in a traditional classroom.  30 pages of material, and my instructor will find at least 5 questions that require Google assistance.  Yes, I’m serious. I have a few more weeks of this madness and then the real madness will start when Spring Semester begins.  While I’m only taking a few classes – one of those classes is a Math class.  I’m taking applications for tutors now.  Must be available for last minute questions and must be immune to serious temper tantrums and other disruptive acting out behaviors.  Payment is my happiness.  School costs went up – I can’t afford to pay you…I’ll come to your office and maybe we can work out some other payment arrangements (enter porn music track here).  Speaking of which…

I’ve been busy with THAT situation, too.  Last I heard they will be contacting him and bringing him in for questioning.  Great.  All of a sudden this state got REALLY fuckin small.  I really don’t want to be mentioned in this meeting, and I’m sure I will be.  I don’t understand what questions need to be answered but the more they drag this along into some g.d. Perry Mason type thing, the more I feel like I did something to warrant this – because in order to ask him the question, wouldn’t there then need to be an acceptable answer that would be good enough for "them" to keep him on board?  I’m so not happy about that.  At all.  If you all don’t know what I’m talking about – sorry.  I’m sure you can deduce what is going on from my other posts but because now I don’t know if I’m going to be needing counsel I should probably keep my mouth shut about it.  I can just see it now: CeCe – is this your blog?  Are these some of your fantasies?  Did you write this story about having sex with a Professor for a better grade?  What do you mean, fantasy?  This seems pretty REAL to me.  Did you show Professor Assholewhoshouldn’tbenamed this website?  Are you SURE, CeCe?  Maybe this is the reason for his comment on your paper.  He knew YOU would understand what he was saying, because you DO understand what he is saying, don’t you, CeCe?  Are you crying because of remorse?  Guilt?  Why don’t we just pretend this never happened and just go about our business.  You DID get an A after all.  Yeah.  All this and more goes through my head in regards to this fucked up situation.  He’s ruined a perfectly good fantasy, too.  I’ll hate him forever for that!

blah.

I’m vaguely aware that I’m working out most of my frustrations at the gym these days.  My newest obsession? Spin class.  I went the first time, limped out on wobbly legs and I was hooked.  I’m going to a spin class tomorrow today so I should really be going soon.  My goal is by the end of the week to go 3 times a week.  It’s good cardio and it kicks my ass.  What can I say?  I enjoy the challenge and I enjoy the burn.  Tiffy got me an early … how should we explain it, Tiffy? An early Valentines present and when I get it programmed (soon, Tiffy, I promise!) it will show me exactly how badly that class kicks my ass, but I heard you can burn up to 700 calories in an hour – easily.  People said that the class was better than sex and after taking it 2 times now, I can honestly say that spin class is better than sex.  The seat is hard – you get totally wet, it feels so good it hurts, and it lasts longer than most sex I’ve had.  Oh – and it comes (no pun intended) with a great soundtrack most of the time.  The best part is when you’re done you can just get up and leave with no questions asked, no awkward silence, and you don’t have to figure out what to do with the wet spot/s.   Though I do have to say (to be fair) most of the online sex I get is much better than spin class. I just don’t get it enough (and who’s fault is that, CeCe?) I know I know…

Final thoughts?  I’m sorry I haven’t been on as much as I would like.  I will be logging in and keeping a better schedule. I have been on for a few hours here and there but you gotta call me or make an appointment as soon as you see me peaking my little head up; the last few days I’ve been on a power getting to know you calls that totaled over 10 hours in just 2.5 days.  Although my ‘husband’ JK will not be contacting me that extensively over the next few weeks, I do have other lovers (ooooh – that sounds so sexy and grown doesn’t it?) who I speak to for long periods of time.  A quick review: If I’m on ALERTS that means that I probably will pick up if I’m awake.  If you see me on AWAY you can certainly arrange calls.  If you see I’m BUSY, you can make an appointment to be next in line up to a specified number of hours.  If you have written me a note to see if I’m really AVAILABLE and you see that I’m on, or if you have a particular fantasy you want me to review before you call – please give me a call and let me know you’ve written me a note.  Sometimes I’m away from my computer but totally able to take calls and AVAILABLE.  I’ll comp you the minute it takes for you to tell me to check my email for your fantasy.  Mike and … there is one other person but I don’t have my notes with me:  I haven’t forgotten about your pic requests and will do so in the next few days.  I seriously didn’t have time to make this post AND find the picture I wanted to send you.  I haven’t forgotten though and thank you for your patience. 

Um … I think that is it.  I mean – there is a whole lot more – but I think that is sufficient.  Look for me tomorrow after I find feeling in my thighs – sometime in the afternoon.  I’m going out to dinner with a girlfriend and won’t be back until later Saturday evening so if you don’t see me in the afternoon look for me definitely after 11:00PM for sure.  Not sure what is going on on Sunday.  Oh – I have to do some work for my other online class, but I’ll try to hurry it on up so we can play a bit. Drop me a note if you want to request a specific time so you can catch me. Until we talk again…

So after staying up until – I dunno – 3:00AM last night (that would be FRIDAY Nite) I woke up this morning at 9:30AM and made myself a delicious bowl of oatmeal before running into the shower, changing for the gym – and heading off to my study group for Geography. We met at the bookstore down the street and drank a cup of Joe (haha) and studying until about … um … 4:00-4:30? and then ran to the gym where I stayed until 7:00PM. I’m going to say something that is going to shock me. Even though I eluded to similar feelings in this post – what I experienced today was like 10 times stronger than that moment.

I was walking on the treadmill – at a good solid 3.8 MPH and a steep 4.5 incline. I was working in my 80 percent target rate about 40 percent of the time – and in my 70 percent target heart rate the remaining time. I was sweating … like a crazy woman; the kind of sweat that pools in between your tits (okay – guys shouldn’t know what that feels like… ) – collects at the nape of your neck – and starts this steady stream down the back of your tank top. By the time you’re done, you have this band of water around your panties (again … guys…) and the treadmill below you has evidence of your leak. When the treadmill tells me I’ve burned about 500 calories and walked a good 3 miles in 45 glorious minutes, it hits me. This feeling like – PRAISE GOD I AM ALIVE AND I AM HEALTHY AND I GOT PEOPLE WHO LOVE ME feeling. I want to raise up my hands and start jumpin up and down yelling to everyone about how fuckin great life is and how glad I am to be an American. It is at 45 minutes that it kicks in and I start to increase the speed – pushing my heart rate even faster – and feeling like I have come down from the best orgasm with Mr. Hitachi Wand EVER. I LOVE that feeling. I always end on this surge of energy – and an embarrassment that I was going to quit 30 minutes earlier.

The Nazi trainer pushed me so hard the other day (I asked her to because I was angry at the English teacher I once loved. It’s true. Check it out… I actually loved him at one point. How foolish was I?) that I was woke up thinking about her. I had asked Ms. Nazi to push me hard and she was all to happy to accommodate me. It was “leg” day – and I sat and pushed and did abductor and adducters and lunges and planks and … by the time I left I knew she had kicked my ass into a new dimension. But it felt good. So back to this morning – when I woke up – I had to stand in the shower for a good 30 minutes and just let the hot water penetrate the soreness. It wasn’t pretty – but again – I felt really great! So ok – today – I walk for an hour. 673 calories later – I’m HIGH. I feel like nothing can stop me. I go straight to the counter and I ask if there is a trainer available. A sweet guy that I call Scott Baio (spelling?) -the younger years – volunteers to work me out. I am doing pull ups (ok – they cheat and take away half of my body weight but still… !), I’m doing bicep curls and chest press thingees and working my triceps and then I go to do planks and BAM! Right on my face. I had no arms. Nothing in my arms. They were tingling and burning a little – and I felt a little light headed – and it was the BEST feeling (next to an orgasm with Mr. Hitachi Man and ‘you’) that I’ve ever had … EVER. I think it’s happened. I think I’m addicted to the burn.

I told Ms. Nazi the other day that I want so badly to tell her no when she asks me for 10 more lunges while carrying weights across the floor. I so badly want to kick her in the vagina — hard — when she asks me for 10 more seconds while holding the damn plank and I can hardly see because sweat is dripping into my eyeballs and blinding me. I so badly want to tell her to go to hell when she asks me to do step ups on the weight bench while holding 15 pounds close to my chest like am “old friend”. And when she puts me on the stair climber and asks me to walk up backwards to work my ass – I want to kick her in hers. But there is something inside of me – this incredible stubborness that can not say “no”. I say “yes” – and if it doesn’t burn enough I grunt out “2 more!” I have become that gym rat we all love to hate. For years I have been that type of girl who exercised because it was necessary to do in order to enjoy the things I enjoy. But I didn’t like it one bit. I liked the results – but not the process. I swear – no matter how much I complain about the nazi, no matter how much I may hate Scott Baio tomorrow when I try to lift my arms to brush my teeth, no matter how badly I think muscle heads are kinda a little loopy and in a league of their own – and that people who are so into their bodies really need to spend more time with friends and/a social life…no matter how much I might try to say those types of things – or believe in those things – the truth remains: I am in love with that burning feeling.

Who oh that burning feeling.

I put every bit of anger I had into those weights and treadmill today — and I only partially still want a cigarette. Which is really good because usually cigarettes are the only things that make me feel better when I’m that mad. And that’s another story for another day (the reason why I was mad…) – it’s 1:34AM and I’m way tired. I’m going to drink tons of water – take some Advil and get up so I can … yup… go to the gym. Hopefully I’ll be able to get some energy and then I can come back and talk with some of you. Unless there’s football – in which case I’ll do some studying – then come back later and play with you.

Even “The Burn” is no substitute for you guys! Come on! I’m not cumming on the treadmill or the weight machines. The gym just supplies that after sex shudder – that aftershock. Nothing but sex can deliver the true Earth Shattering Experience of an Orgasm. Well, except for Mr. Hitachi wand. And a really great shoe sale. And getting an A on a final. And realizing I have only one more class with Mr. AssholicalExtraordinaire.

And a nice marble. *if you don’t know – you should ask me!*

but yeah. The burn has nothin’ on you. But it is a rather nice discovery.

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?

Just a quick note – then back to studying I go (can anyone tell me the way to Maldives Island? Anyone?  Bueller?).   I completely realize I have treated you like red-headed step children for the past 3 months now.  My posts are pretty non existent, my updates are a joke and my scheduling promises read pretty much like the campaign promises of future/past/present leaders.  Because of this great track record I can’t even say "I’ll do better" with out sounding a bit like some babby daddy on the Maury Povich show (yeah – I watch, and?). 

But I promise I will do better. 

This is what we’re looking at for today’s schedule:

1. Geography Test soon – and studying and shower.  Not necessarily in that order – or I’d be pretty much one failing stinky student.
2. Work out at the gym tonight for 45 minutes (brisk walk while listening to some pretty happy energetic music on my Ipod and reading cspan on the televisions.
3. Limp to my car, drive home, log in and work on various projects I have going all at once in true A.D.D. fashion.
4. Consider blogging on these topics of interest while logging in to take calls around 11:00PM (perhaps sooner – but you know how Tuesdays are for me…):

   My Bday

    My C In English
    My Schedule for the rest of the week
    The Nazi at the Gym
    Retirement

5. Take Shower – floss – waterpick – french braid hair – say my prayers – and go to bed.

So … that is my plan. I need to go now so I can do the first thing on my list… studying.  So far I figured out my countries (just ask me where Myanmar is… go ahead – I’ll show you on my handy dandy map, I will!) but I have islands left to do and about an hour in which to do them.  Wish me luck … we’re heading towards the finish line and I’m running neck in neck with a Kenyan (Did you know, Obama, I ask him, trying to distract him.  He puts his fist in the air, I raise it in solitude – lose my pace, stumble, and fall even further behind.  Sneaky bastard, I think to myself, wondering where Kenya is in comparison to Sudan which is ON my map test, today…)

Talk to you soon.

Ok all my loyal wet dreamers Hey – gotta use that somehow … that’s pretty catchy, right?

anyhowwww – this is CeCe signing in for the evening. Except I’m not actually signing in. I’m going to go take a shower having walked a few miles, went to the gym AND had dinner with a great friend. I’m somewhat sore – sweaty – and a little in need of some tender lovin care. Hopefully all the great sweet gentle men with nice strong hands will be around to give my body the tender lovin care it deserves. *grin*

I’ll be fine, sweeties! No massage needed – just a little bit of forgiveness for making you wait another 45 minutes for my arrival. I will be here all ready for you at 10:45. That leaves me a little under 42 minutes – so I best be running/limping to the shower.

Talk soon.