Turns out Jackson is even LESS of a fan of fireworks than me. Didn’t think it was possible. I don’t like loud unexpected noises, and I’m always a bit freaked out by the displays of fireworks. Might have something to do with my childhood and the hand that I lost while lighting a cherry bomb…

Kidding.

I just don’t like loud noises. And fireworks take longer to prepare than actually seeing them. I don’t mean to sound like a brat (though I’m getting practice becoming more of one thanks to some of my callers who are holding classes in brat), I just don’t like the whole anticipation of fireworks for 10 minutes. Or even 15. It took longer for me to drive to an area to see these fireworks and then set up to watch them than it did for the actual show. It’s comparable to being prepared for a nice long sex session doing your favorite fantasy, and getting a minute. I understand quickies can be necessary and downright enjoyable guys, but I’m not wearing my sexiest lingerie for one. Did I get all off topic and lose the original point? Yeah? Original point: I hate fireworks.

Jackson totally freaked out during them. I don’t know what I was doing last 4th of July because I don’t remember him acting like this last year. Or maybe I just repressed the whole event. But tonight, Jackson was just pissed off. Not scared but he was in full protector mode. The neighbors started shooting off (fireworks) at about 5:00PM I swear! And then the theme park next to me started shooting them off hours later, and then a few drunk neighbors decided to test their luck and shot off fireworks an hour ago. During this long torture my dog the protector decided that all he had to do was bark at a high enough and loud enough decibel and the fireworks would stop. He’s now passed out on the rug acting like he’s responsible for restoring world peace. Next year he’s getting a doggy tranquilizer.

So enough of the whining, let me say I will take MY kind of fireworks over 4th of July ones any day of the year! You guys have kept me so incredibly busy and happy this weekend! I didn’t know that coming back would be so rewarding. I still have so much to do before I can sit back and ‘kind of’ relax, but I have until the 3rd week in August to complete some of the renovations I’m doing around here. I think I might just make it.

I decided to stay up late late and work to gain your favor (ahaha) and I guess it worked and you all forgive me. Glad we got that sniveling and begging out of the way so we can go back to how things were before I flaked for 4-5 months. And yeah, I mean MY sniveling and begging! So I spent the past few days not really sleeping and doing some serious calls. I also spent quite a bit of time thinking up an incentive program/reward system that will make sure I never sleep for more than 5 hours a night again EVER! But it will be totally worth it! I really like being able to do something for my callers who have supported me since I was 18 (wait – that was just 1 year since I’m only STILL 19!). I’ve had friends come and go since those beginning days, but …

Let’s not do this AGAIN. I always get all sentimental like I’m dying or something. Just thanks. And the incentive program is underway. I will be updating and sending you all emails in the next few days so watch your inboxes on niteflirt. If you don’t want to participate, please let me know. I hate spam and certainly don’t want to be contributing to mail you’d prefer to not be getting.

Um … I think that’s basically it. This week is pretty much mine to do with as I wish, so I’ll be available early evenings for calls every day except Monday & Tuesday evenings (spin class – won’t be home until about 9:00PM). So dreamers, tomorrow let’s dream a bit together! You’ll be glad you did!

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.

I have a very good friend – best really – who I occasionally live vicariously through. She has that type of life I always envisioned myself having in a few years: the hubby, the kids, a nice home in NYC, and every Christmas a tree that Martha Stewart would envy. A lot older and wiser than I am, she often gives me tidbits of advise that I gobble up like… I dunno … Skittles that have been sitting in your hand a little too long and have become soft and just a tad bit warm. Shit… that sounds kinda good.

Anyways – my friend, who I shall not name but anyone who knows me knows whom I am speaking, calls me up one day and is way upset. When she gets excited/mad her voice always raises up 2 more octaves and she sounds even more like Minnie Mouse with a ‘tude from the Bronx. It’s adorable.

“CeCe! He’s doing it again!”

“huh?” I ask – immediately turning down the volume on my phone to compensate for the volume of my friend. I turn it down to 5 and then after a moment turn it down to a two. It’s definitely sounding like a two volume conversation.

“He’s humping his pillow.”

“Ok – well … I guess these things happen.” I tell her in my most authorative voice. I remember reading something in Human Sexuality Class about masturbation in children – but not sure exactly what I read. Was it bad? Normal? A sign of something to come? (no pun intended)

“He’s doing it in the open in front of everyone.”

“Well… ok. Well that’s not so good then.” I say delicately while holding back my laughter.

“It’s not funny!”

Busted. “Ok – well – maybe you should just tell him to go into his room and do it.” I have no idea what the hell I’m talking about really. But I know my friend and she is upset. She probably said some things to her son that will forever scar him and I’m trying my best to do intervention with out sounding like I’m a know-it-all because I know nothing at this point. I’m not a Mom. Or I wasn’t then.

“I fuckin’ told him to stop fuckin his pillow!” My friend exploded. “His sister started laughing at him and told him he was gross.”

“But…” I interrupted passionately “He’ll get a damn complex! Do you want him calling up those lines and talking to a Mistress who will make fun of his thingee because that’s the only way he will be able to get off and it will all be because you made him feel ashamed of what is just natural?”

“Shut up, Ce!”

I could hear her softening on the other end and I continued carefully, “Masturbation is natural and it relieves stress! He just needs to do it in a more appropriate place. Can’t his daddy talk to him about it?”

“Shiiiiit” My friend sighed. It was a defeated “shit” though. Her anger was subsiding. “Maybe I should take his pillow away from him.” She considered.

“He’ll just find something else – and then he’ll learn to hide it and be ashamed of what he is doing instead of understanding there isn’t anything wrong with masturbating – he just needs to find a private place to do it because not everyone wants to see that kind of thing or somethin’.”

I was sounding more and more like a child therapist as the conversation went on. My friend must have thought so too – because she told me she would consider my advise and try harder to not freak out when her little boy was masturbating against various stuffed things in the house.

Before I took away Jackson’s manhood he was providing me with a certain sick sort of entertainment. He would take various stuffed animals – attack them – grabbing bits of their soft furry flesh in his teeth and shake the victim back and forth while making growling noises. Once he was sure they were …um … tamed (?) he would mount various parts of their bodies and go to work. Remembering my earlier conversations with my friend I decided to casually move the stuffed animal ala Jackson to a secluded part of the living room and go about my business. He would eventually stop and move on to other activities. I spoke casually about it to the Vet, relieved that he wasn’t humping people’s legs or other dogs in the doggy park (such things carry a serious stigmatization that aren’t easily discarded!) The vet insisted that once Jackson had the operation
he wouldn’t feel the need to do that often/ever. I had hope. At 6 months Jackson had the surgery and after he stopped glaring at me and his stitches healed he was back to doing the humpy dumpy. He had his favorite mates; The Zebra – an old child hood friend he hung out with, a toy bunny that he also had since he was 8 weeks old. Not “had” in that sense. Then there was the huge stuffed dog that I bought because I thought it would be cute if my little tiny doggy cuddled with a stuffed animal 5 times his size. Jackson prefers humping one of his legs and basically doesn’t even do the post-coital thing with the dog. He’s a love em fuck em and leave em kinda dog – what can I say?

I dealt with Jackson’s horniness because it was well contained inside of the home. No one knew that behind his little furry face that housed the sweetest, loving eyes and mischievous grin, he actually was Ron Jeremy to the stuffed animals in the house. I swear I fond a few of them hiding, fearing the way he casually tossed the others to the side after he had had their way with them.

A few weeks ago something happened – something BIG – and I realized that something had to change. I had a big decision to make. Only I could make it for him. I was the adult, the Mommy – and I had to really take my role in Jackson’s life seriously or he would harm himself.

Jackson’s penis got stuck.

All I remember is that he was having his special time with Ms. Zebra and um … he stopped – sated – and went about his business. I don’t look down there all that often because it’s his privates you know? And he gets shy sometimes. But I did happen to notice that there was something there that was kinda stuck. It usually goes back after a few licks or whatever (sorry – it’s natural!) and so I didn’t really worry about it. *sigh* This is a NF friendly blog – so please read that last sentence as it was intended: JACKSON licks himself and it goes back. Thanks. As I was saying… I wasn’t worried. But the next day I saw that it was still kinda peeking out as if to say “Hi – where’s the Zebra bitch – I’m ready for round 2 DAWG!!!” I quelled my fears and went about my business. I took Jackson for a walk where we ran across (of course) the adoring public who immediately wanted to pet my dog until he rolled onto his back displaying for the whole world to see his little Jackson. “Hi…” it said. “Where’s my Zebra bitch?” Embarrassed and shamed I quickly escorted Jackson back home and headed towards Google.

“My Dog’s Penis is stuck – what do I do?” Come on. What did you think I typed in there?

Minutes later I knew what I needed to do. I had to wade through ALOT of advise too. Butter, Neosporin, to massage or not massage?, until I finally stumbled upon the one thing I knew I could do. I had to ice my dog’s um “balls”. Carrying Jackson to the kitchen I opened up the freezer and grabbed a few ice cubes. Grabbing some paper towel I placed the ice cubes in it and turned Jackson onto his back, cradling him in my arms. His tongue escaped to give me a quick kiss.

“You’re not going to wanna kiss me after this…” I muttered and gently applied the ice.

Jackson’s expression shifted from curiosity to absolute disgust. “I don’t have any balls, stupid.” I heard him say. So I shifted the ice cubes up a bit to the base of his …”Oh – you’re the meanest mommy alive!” his eyes screamed at me and he started to squirm and close his legs at the same time.

“You need to stop humpin the dry ass animals!” I told Jackson.

“Um – I make do with what I have you cruel heartless woman!” He replied.

Looking past the Brawny that was now mush I saw that Jackson’s thingee was still out saying hello to the world. Considering butter for a brief moment (didn’t know where the damn Neosporin was!) I set Jackson down on the floor to consider my other options. I could call the Vet in the morning and HE could put that thing back in. I could try to push it back in…eeeew. No. I could … ‘Damn’ I interrupted my own thoughts, ‘I can’t believe I fuckin was icing my dog’s dick!’ Ok – so – the vet. I’ll bring Jack to the vet!

“Jackson!” I screamed suddenly. “Don’t lick it it will NEVER GO BACK IN!” I Rushed to Jackson to pick him up and interrupt his masturbatory experience – but as I got closer I noticed… The thingee was back in. My nightmare was over. My baby was going to live another day! And most importantly – I didn’t have to take him in to the vet to get his penis put back in.

The very next day I knew what I needed to do. I picked up all his “girlfriends” threw them into the washing machine on delicate and put a bit of wool light in there to make things all nice and soft. Once they were all washed I placed them all on the picnic table in the backyard to dry. I was planning on packing them up after they were nice and dry and giving them to Jackson on “special” occasions. I figured he could have a date night and he could go at it for a bit and I would then pick up the girls and put them away until next time. *sigh* Once the girls were on the picnic table though, Jackson wouldn’t leave me alone. He would go to the table – look up at the nice pieces of ass that were laid out there – and cry, whine, claw at the table legs and attempt to jump up to get them. After hours of this I finally relented and gave him his pieces of ass warning him to not get anything stuck – I still hadn’t found the Neosporin and I wasn’t in the mood to ice his nether regions again. He ignored me and went to work. Luckily nothing got stuck. I kept an eye on things.

So my big decision still is upon me. Do I take away Jackson’s … um … girlfriends again? Do I take away the only thing that brings him pleasure? Do I rob him of his sexuality just as I robbed him of his balls? Shouldn’t a little white Doggy have a little bit of boom boom if he wants it? Who is he hurting? The zebra really isn’t complaining. But if I let him continue to hump dry ass stuffed animals, his penis may very well get stuck again. He’s sort of asking for it by not using any lubrication, don’t you think?

I haven’t made up my mind…and I’m open to suggestions. I really am. A parent needs to do what is in the best interest of their child, you know. I’m suppose to protect him from the harsh realities of life – which I assume means stuck penis’.

My momma definitely didn’t tell me there would be days like this!

I once kept a dream journal at the advice of an English teacher. I never showed it to anyone – because I have those types of dreams that are absolutely with out a doubt revealing to the point of indecent exposure. There is no need for interpretation – or experts – or anything like that. My dreams have always been clear as a bell.

For instance, the other night I had a dream that I found a little polar bear wandering around in the woods. (Hey – no comments about my lack of geography knowledge…my dreams don’t know any better!) He was so cute. All white – with a little button nose and big black eyes and white eyelashes. He snuggled right up to me and I carried him home. We were such a cute pair – my little polar bear and I (lol!) and everyone was amazed at how cute he was. He was really well behaved too, considering. He would sleep in bed with me and snuggle up all nice and close and keep me really warm and his breath smelled like fresh fruit. He was absolutely with out a doubt adorable! Friends would come to visit us and at first they were all really positive about our relationship (grin) but later they started to give me these little comments like, “You know – bears are cute when they are cubs – but when they grow up they will be bears – and he may eventually maul you.” I would shrug off their comments, thinking them jealous more than concerned and continue on with my plan. But the bear began to grow up very fast. Every day his paws would get bigger – and though he was still as gentle as a lamb, I couldn’t help but wonder if my friends were correct. Could this bear grow up to forget about our relationship and go back to his “bear” tendencies? Could my bear be a threat to my safety and eventually kill me with out even realizing what he was doing? I started to look at my bear a bit more cautiously. And I started, too, to think of ways that I could “ditch” him. I thought of maybe bringing him to the local zoo but was not sure he would fit in with the others and was very concerned about how well he would be treated there. I thought about releasing him back into the woods from whence he came, but I worried that some hunters would come along and kill him for his fur (??). And then I woke up. Took Jackson out for his morning pee – and thought about how cute he was with his soft white fur and his little button nose and his big black eyes with white eyelashes. And as soon as Jackson was done watering his favorite tree, I got on the phone and called around for some dog trainers.

It’s not that Jackson is bad and I’m afraid of him mauling anyone. But he hasn’t outgrown his biting yet. He doesn’t bite you out of dominance or whatever, he just hasn’t realized that there are humans and there are dogs – and dogs can not play with humans the way they do with other dogs. He will run around your feet – play hide and seek with you – jump out at you with a silly grin on his face, toss you his favorite toy and dare you not to play with him. If you refuse his advances, he will lick your hand – then nip you. Then lick you. Then nip. I’ve taken to saying NO or OUCH to him as loud as possible and tapping him on the nose and he “gets” it but will still lick nip lick nip you until he grows tired of the nose batting he gets from it. He pushes the limits. Constantly. And if he wasn’t so damned adorable I would be more irritated than I am. One thing is clear though, this little nipping he does needs to be taken care of immediately. It is not attractive. He’s been doing it since he was way little and I’ve tried time outs, loud noises, squirting him in the face, etc. Nothing seems to break his spirit like the ass whooping I want to give him. I took a little test on line and realized that Jackson is a F student in obedience. Quite alarming after the 100 something bucks I paid for him to be socialized and learn basic manners when he was a puppy. He is willful, stubborn, and clearly all alpha omega, that dog. And something needs to be done, immediately. My dreams are telling me so.

The other part of my dream that I found very insightful was the whole polar thing. I’ve been learning about Phospholipids in biology lately. Yeah. Pretty dang interesting, right? It seems that in that class I’m always about 2 days behind in the learning curve. My professor will talk about phospholipids on Monday and by Friday I’m waking myself up after a dream about polar bears as pets thinking – Ooooooh! The LAYER is made up of the fatty part of the phospholipids and thus forming a BARRIER that water can not penetrate! Ooooooh. I get it. So yeah – interesting things, right? One part of that little thingee is polar and the other nonpolar. I think that’s a good balance, right? I think it’s also a really great insult to give to people who are unstable… “You’re like a phospholipid with no tail.” Clever right? Especially when the person has no idea what the hell one of those little phospholipids are! Anyway – all that to say I think that is the other reason why I was dreaming about polar bears. Some part of my life is extremely …out of balance, let’s say.

That’s all I have for you. No – really. That’s all I have. There is nothing left up there. *taps head so you can hear the empty hollow ring* I have TONS of homework this weekend. A lab test in Biology – along with about 5 chapters or so to read because I have a big test next week on all 8 chapters of Biology and I still have to work, sleep, play, and pee. I also have a government class that I should attend tomorrow morning bright and early. And I still am half way entertaining my relatives from out of town. Let’s not forget finding a trainer for my polar bear, finding some balance between life, work, school and stuff, and thinking of a topic for Monday’s topic. I will write more this weekend – but just wanted to check in really quick. I will be logged in for a few more minutes here – and then I’m going to take the rest of the afternoon off. If you want to speak to me please feel free to make an appointment with me. I will try logging on this evening for a few hours before bedtime. I just feel like having a little time to myself right now to enjoy the weather, catch up on some reading for school, and maybe even listen to some music.

Talk to you all very soon.

Take a listen.

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