I just got done emailing some of my friends from my last writing class at school. I had to tell them I wouldn’t be returning to campus as a student. I’ll still be doing some volunteer work (because, hey, I need these things on my application for schools!), but I won’t be attending school there. I’ll be working on my math class. Trying to get the damn stuff done already. I have one final math class, and I’m taking it off campus with my tutor.

A few years ago, I came across this porn movie with Gauge in it. She’s this blonde that is exceptionally gifted at anal sex. Actually she stands on her head and gets fucked in the ass which, hats off to you, Gauge, is impressive! The movie I first saw her in had the title Bring em Young. They said it was a university, and I thought it was just a porn thing. Clever, too, I thought. Cuz it actually sounded like it could be a real school. BYU.

Imagine my surprise when my tutor enrolled me in an independent studies class at BYU – Brigham Young University. I told Sarah Nanette last night that I didn’t think it was a real school! As a result, I keep saying the name wrong. Bringum Young. Ugh. My tutor is going to think I’m a bigger freak than he realized.

It was super hard not signing up for any classes. But I don’t need them. I signed up for classes last semester because I needed them and they would count towards my major. But enough is enough. I gotta get out of the small college in this now small town and head for greener pastures. And it’s really scary. I didn’t realize before how much I was clinging to the school. I didn’t realize how it had become a crutch for me. And I didn’t realize how sometimes, when bad things happen, it kind of keeps you stuck. Even if you’re miserable, there is a safety in being miserable and stuck. There are tons of reasons why I want to continue taking classes at my old school, but none of them are healthy reasons, I’ve realized. So… I’m moving on.

What this means for niteflirt is, I’ll probably have better hours. I’ll be more flexible during the next few months. And I’ll be working more because BYU ain’t cheap, to be honest. One class is costing the same as 4 classes at my old school. And that’s not including the books that I’ll need. I’m reviewing a previous class at the moment so I’m covered, but by next month I want to be enrolled.

This is the most adult thing I’ve done in a long time.
And it feels good.

I gotta try to get some rest or I’ll be sleeping through the super bowl. No. I won’t be watching. I’ll be painting my nails and talking to those of you who don’t like football. In other words, I’ll be painting my nails and watching USoT.

Trish and I went on a 2 hour walk today along the beach. I wore leggings I could easily pull up right under my knee
(key for walking along the beach and being surprised by the occasional angry wave), an oversized sweater, and flip flops. I thought I could carry them when I walked along the sand and quickly put them back on when walking across the larger pebbles and stone little wall peninsulas. Trish opted for tennis shoes and jeans. The ocean saw this as a challenge, and I could almost hear it laughing as it sent huge waves after her, determined to make her feet and ankles wet.

I didn’t undersand why sea glass was so appealing. I looked at the large stones rubbed smooth by the ocean. In Minnesota they would be called skipping stones. Here in California they might be painted with zen like words on them, then carefully placed in someone’s garden, or a long a path. There are also plenty of quartz stones, and red stones filled with little tiny holes. And shells. Man are there shells. The shells are big, pried open by the water and lie nestled between seaweed and feathers. What the ocean washes up on the shore has always amazed me. But I never stopped to think about sea glass.

The first few pieces sent a tiny little thrill through me. And then I started to find more. Your eye sifts through the sand. The sun makes everything glisten, but then, something catches. And there it is. A piece of sea glass. I found a few blue pieces today. A lot of clear pieces. Plenty of brown pieces. I didn’t find red. Red is seriously rare. I would love to find a piece of red sea glass one day. Sea glass is so much more valuable when you find it. But I picked up a few pieces of glass for Leigh Ann. As a thank you for inviting me.

Several times the ocean took my treasures before I could put them in my pocket. I tried placing my foot over the glass, tried to anchor it down from the wave that wanted to abduct it, but when the water would go down, and my foot was removed, the piece of glass was gone. A few times my flip flop got stuck, and I’d pull up, trying to get my foot out of the sand. The ocean is a bully. But it’s so pretty, it’s hard to stay mad at it. During one of these tug of wars, I lost my shoe, and as the tide went back out, so did my shoe. I tried to lift my other foot, so that I could run after my now floating away flip flop, but my foot wouldn’t budge. So I (I know, I know) removed my foot from my shoe and pretty much ran after my other shoe now several feet away from me, floating on top of the water, pleading for me to save it. By the time I had reached my shoe, my other had been uprooted from it’s sandy nest. I stared out at the waves, expecting to find my other shoe floating. Somewhere. But no shoe. The ocean took my shoe. It didn’t even seem sorry about it. One Old Navy Flip Flop for 10 or so pieces of glass. I suppose it’s worth it.

It’s nearing 3:30 and we’re planning on leaving around 5:30PM. I’ve stayed much later than I thought, but that’s only because once you get here, it’s pretty fucking impossible to leave. I wish I could stay longer. I’d go for another walk along the beach, this time with Tennis shoes. I’d watch the sun set under the waves, and let the wind and salt rub all the stress and rough patches smooth.

I said that I’d log on tonight around 8:00PM, but my family wants to go out to dinner when I get home later. So I’ll log in probably closer to 10PM PST. I’m going to have to listen to the “wave” soundtrack on my iphone radio station thingee in order to sleep tonight. It hardly sounds like the real thing, but we make do with what we have.

I really wish you could have been here. You would have found it just as wonderful as I did. Let me not even talk about the great bed I got to sleep in last night. O. M. G. squared. Stay beautifully rare (like sea glass) until we speak…

I’ve started to write a lot lately, and 2 of my newest bestest friends, LeAnn & Trish are my partners in crime. Soon a boy will be joining us. His name is Sam. Our trio will be disrupted, but I think we will survive it. So anyway, our current threesome writes together every Tuesday and Thursday. This Thursday, LeAnn invited us to her parent’s beach house to hang out, listen to the waves, and drink cheap wine. Oh, and to write. I guess this will be something we will start doing once a month. I was going to log on, but I’m sure you’ll all understand why I couldn’t. Not this time. Maybe next time. Who knows, maybe LeAnn & Trish will pop on and say a quick hello. I’m not promising anything, though. I’ve told them a little bit about some of you and they are intrigued but rightfully cautious.

Tonight the waves are incredibly fierce. And they are loud. At first one might mistake the roar for traffic, but then you remind yourself…that’s the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, over and over again. I’m sitting at the main dining room table right now, looking out onto the Pacific Ocean, and the moon sometimes shines in just the right way, and I can see the white crest of the waves rolling in. Earlier I caught the sunset. I walked to one of the five balconies and leaned against the railing. I could feel the spray from the ocean, taste the salt in the air. Seriously, I’m so close I could throw a frisbee and hit the water. I could spit and hit…never mind. That’s a long shot. And good girls don’t spit.

I’m pretty sure I’ve died and gone to heaven.

Tomorrow we’ll take a walk on the beach, eat some breakfast, and then sit down and do a little bit of writing before driving back into the city. I hope I find some sea glass on the beach. It will be a great reminder of what has to be, an absolutely perfect day.

I’ll talk with you Tomorrow Evening around 8:00PM PST.

Hehe.

Ok. Thanks! I’ll write more tomorrow! xo.

I mean, yeah, we all “saw it coming” – but did we? Did we really? There are plenty of thin people out there who suffer from diabetes – and no, not the type 1 kind. Type 2. Halle Berry. Dick Clark. Um … I’m sure there’s others, but I don’t have time to google them at the moment. My point is, we can’t assume that all fat people just have it comin’ to them and not give a rat’s ass when they get sick. Cuz that would be unpatriotic. And mean. We all sat around and cried when Amy Winehouse died. Didn’t seem to matter that she was a rock star with piss poor self control around drugs and alcohol. Oh, wait. Some of us blamed her and said she had it comin’, too. Never mind.

Maybe I’m missing something here, but … I’m really sad that Paula Deen is diabetic. Now she’s going to be cutting out all the sweets and cooking all healthy on her show, which just doesn’t translate into my grandmother fantasy at all. Grandmothers don’t sit you down and hand you carrots to eat. Your parents do that. Grandparents have the cookies. And the twinkies. That’s their job. I’m pretty sure it’s in their contract.

I’m just saying.

I think we should be a little nicer to Paula Deen. And stop giving butter a bad name, because all grandparents know – butter is far healthier than margarine. It was probably all that sugar that did her in. And a sedentary lifestyle. And the smoking. Nah. She didn’t smoke. But she wasn’t exercising. She should have taken a few walks every day. But then, shouldn’t we all? I’ve been trying to do this damn 5K run for 2 years now.

That’s all I have for you tonight. I’m still recovering from my sickness, which is leaving my body but has currently taken up residency in my sinus cavity. If Paula Deen were here, she’d make me some yummy grilled cheese and tomato soup. And then probably ask me what these men talk about when they call.

Aren’t you dying to know what it is? I’ll tell you after 40 successful days. In a row. It could potentially take awhile! But feel free to guess…

So, I went to get tires today. I had to get 2. Which I resent. Why does everything have to be done in twos? Why can’t 1 single solitary thing be balanced. And no, this isn’t going to be a rant on being single and resenting the world for forcing me into a relationship simply to maintain balance in the universe, it’s merely an observation. I wanted to spend money on 1 tire. But I was forced into buying 2. And… AND… I had called earlier to get a quote and was told 66 for a tire, but when I got there, the tire was 77 or 78 dollars instead. One more thing. One single solitary thing in addition to the tire increase (done slyly by an old man who reminded me of my grandfather, so I could hardly give him much attitude), when I got back into my car, my foot rest was just lying on the driver side of the floor. Just chilling there. Like “hello…where do I belong?” I seriously was “what the fuck!?” So I went back to the service desk and asked them to put my fucking car back together again. Who does that? Which really brings me to my main point of this post, I think. While I might have failed in the beginning of my 40 day challenge, I am back on track and not so far away from my ultimate goal of C-O-N-T-R-O-L and world domination, TOYOTA seriously has failed me. If Toyota was a caller, I’d block him. If Toyota was a boyfriend, I’d break up with him. If Toyota were an insect, it would be a termite. Or leach. Or silverfish thing that eats books, and I’d squish it.

I know people whose cars are 10 years older than mine, and they look fairly decent. California cars. Because some of ya all in the winter states can’t compete with cars out here. We don’t have the salt on the roads, and our cars don’t get cancer (rust), for the most part. So, I’m clarifying. Cars in California that are 12 years old look better than my almost brand new Toyota. Their paint has not bubbled and then just flaked off, even though their cars are sitting in the fricken 102 degree heat 3 months out of the year just like mine. The inside of their cars don’t just suddenly fall apart. They don’t drive a long and hear various rattles and other annoying signs of wear and tear. I have an older cousin who has a Honda and that car is almost as old as I am (I’m not lying) and the engine has worn out before the steering wheel cover, the rubber around the windows, the paint, or the little doo-dads in the car like window roller upper thingee and glove compartment handles or f’n foot rest, for Christ sake. Toyota, I HATE YOU and you have a small, insignificant dick.

I once use to think that having a Toyota or a Honda was basically the same thing. But now I realize my horrible mistake and it’s too late to break up with it because I’ve put too much into our relationship already. I didn’t wash my car for the past few months because I didn’t even care how it looked. I was just embarrassed to be seen around town with him, so I didn’t even bother dressing cute, or buying cologne for him during Christmas. I just let him sit around in my family’s driveway, and ignored him, like that older cousin that smokes way too much pot and always says stuff about my tits during dinner. Doesn’t every family have a cousin like that? But okay, today I caved. I have to be able to be mobile, so I sucked it up and bought 2, not 1, but 2 tires. I fucking spent 20 bucks more on the tires, and then even decided to wash the piece of shit, while avoiding the cancerous tumor on the top of my car that will soon start spreading like a venereal disease, I’m sure. While I washed my former boyfriend, I noticed a small patch on the hood that will soon start to fade away and rust, too. An age spot, if you will. Except my car is still in fucking grade school and its balls haven’t even dropped yet. Wait. I’m mixing too many metaphors, huh? Whatever.

So, to end my daily rant:

Dear Toyota,
FAIL. FAIL. FAIL. FAIL. Big Gigantic Can’t Even Flush You Down The Toilet FAIL. I hate you. I don’t care who knows it. I’ve started a HONDA fund right next to my APARTMENT fund, and when I have enough money we’re done. I’m not even going to have break up sex with you. In the meantime, please sleep on the couch.
Love, CeCe

So I just announced on twitter that I’ll be doing something for 40 days straight. I already want to quit and I haven’t even lasted a day yet. Don’t ask me why 40 came to mind, it just sounded like a nice number. We’ll see how it goes, but I’ll probably do 40 more after a little bit of a break. You all can feel free to guess what I might be doing for 40 days straight. Masturbating? Math? Mayhem? Abstinence? Aerobics? Anal? Had to throw some sexual things in there to keep your interest.

I’m not sure if this is the time or place to mention this, but … (I pretty much know it’s not the right time, but I lost track of my censor 4 hours ago when I should have been asleep. In its place is this now grouchy no filter bitch. My apologies. Before I go there though – Merry Christmas! How were your Holidays?)

My callers have spoiled me. I’ve been on line now for … a few weeks (I AM only 18, you know!) and in that time I’ve acquired some pretty special callers. Namely 2. Ok, 3. And those 3 callers have spoiled me rotten. They usually ask me how I am doing. They always introduce themselves to me, even though I know their voices by heart, they know my secret kinks and collect them in little journals under their pillows, eager to expose me should our relationship take a turn for the worst. I kid. But they do know my secrets. They always say hello – and most of the time say goodbye (some of us have an understanding, unspoken, that should they get cut off during the happy ending, they don’t need to add time to say goodbye. Come on, that would just be silly!). Some of my newer callers lately have found themselves on the other side of my block button. And I NEVER block. But if you happen to be reading this, and you can’t get through to your favorite teen anymore (and really, if you’re reading this, you haven’t been blocked. You know how that goes; the people that need to hear things don’t, and the ones who don’t need to hear all of this will call me, worried that I’m upset with them when they are the “3″ I spoke of earlier. Ok, it’s more like 20. 20 regulars), then more than likely you’ve done one of the following, or in many cases, a combination of 2-3 of these things:

1. Hung up on me after 2 minutes – leaving me to wonder, “Was it something I said?”
2. Called and demanded, quite rudely, that I moan for you, with no “lead up” or introduction. While I realize I work for a service, and you are a customer, you would never walk into a classy restaurant, seat yourself, pat your belly and order the waitperson to give you “some food” with out specifying what you’d like. Ok, maybe you might, but then you might also enjoy people spitting in your food, as I’m sure they would if you ever did something like that in a restaurant
3. Called and said nothing, or whispered so low I couldn’t understand a word you were saying

Now, so this post isn’t totally negative and bitchy, let me explain a few things that will make our calls pleasant for both of us, keeping you off my blocked list.

1. Introduce yourself. Contrary to popular belief, I can not see who is calling me. Your user name does not come up on the screen, so I really don’t know who you are, unless you call frequently – and even then, sometimes it takes me a minute to register who you are. I know. Unforgivable and ego-deflating. By introducing yourself to me, however, I usually can figure out what you like and immediately go into the role play, eliminating potentially awkward moments when you try to tell me how pink ruffled panties draped over your face while watching Happy Days turns you on. Or whatever.
2. Note I said usually. Sometimes I don’t remember callers from week to week. I get a lot of calls, and sometimes just hearing a name doesn’t register with me what kinds of calls we do together. If you’re a regular of mine, then I usually know you and your fantasies right away, but if you’re fairly new to me and we only speak sporadically, then please forgive me when I ask you what we talked about last time.
3. If you keep in mind a few favorite fantasies of mine, that would be going above and beyond the call of duty. But if you want a really great call with me, just mention a babysitter movie you’ve seen lately, or ask me if I’ve gone to confession. ESPECIALLY if you want me to moan or if you want me to be horny. Just hearing the phone ring doesn’t do it for me (I know, I know. So disappointing!). I don’t typically sit around and watch dirty movies and play with myself. When I do, you all are asleep. Trust me. (I just watched a really hot movie 30 minutes ago and none of you called and asked me if I was horny!)
4. I am well known for my realistic fantasies and role plays. So, please feel free to send me an email and let me know ahead of time what you’re looking for and if I’ll indulge you in the fantasy. Anything really does go. Most of the time. Even if there’s something that I won’t do, I will never make you feel horrible for suggesting it. Ask around (okay – you can’t ask…just read my feedback!) I’m pretty open minded and I have a few nasty things running amuck in my head, too. I will never judge you. There just might be some things I seriously can’t get excited about. I’ve only ran across ONE call in the past …um … 3 months I’ve been working as a phone sex operator (haha!) that I’ve had to decline. If you email me and call me to let me know to read the email before you call back, I’ll totally comp you that 1 minute it took to tell me to read my email.

I think that just about covers it.

I’m still not sleepy.

I hope this didn’t come across as bitchy/whiny/or complaining too much. I’ve just noticed myself getting a bit grumpy lately, and thought it might be wise for me to get this off of my 34B chest. Before things got ugly.
I’ll write a properly nice post later. I know you don’t believe me, since it’s been months since my last post. So, won’t you be surprised when there actually is another post and I’m more pleasant?

I’m up until I fall asleep. If you call and I see I’ve missed your call (there are ways to tell, you know. Niteflirt totally documents all my missed calls!), then I will comp you a few minutes for your trouble. I did something similar for a while last year as encouragement for you all to call. I realize it can be quite disappointing when your cock is in your hand and your favorite teen with braces isn’t picking up her damn phone. What a rude, insolent girl!

Talk soon my cuppy cake yum yum apples of my eye!

So how has everyone been? How’s life been treating you? Got all your shopping for the holidays done? (And no, that wasn’t a plug for my wishlist – I’m sure you all know where my wishlist is located and don’t need me mentioning gifts, presents, or birthdays to manipulate you to buy me something in these hard financial times where presents are probably the last thing on your mind. I was just genuinely asking how your shopping was going…)

Couldn’t resist.

If any of you take me seriously, I’ll have to hurt you.

School is almost over, and as many of you have noticed, I have actually logged in more frequently, and have answered my calls when my phone rings! Also, as Michael and Sarah Nanette will attest to, I’ve actually answered my emails in a pretty timely manner. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get back in the saddle (sort of – I’m kind of riding side saddle at this point, but I’m on the fuckin’ horse at least!). All I can say in my defense is, I’m probably going to be getting all A in all 4 of my classes this semester, and I didn’t have to sleep with half as many professors!

I’m not going to make this all heavy and drippy sweet and sentimental. And I’m far too tired to be witty (the wishlist humor was all the material I had for you). But I do want you all to know that I’ve really missed you. Some of you die hards really make me smile. You’ve waited patiently for me to log in, and have forgiven me when I don’t answer on the first, second, or third attempt. I really have to say at this point I’m counting all my customers who are still with me and still call and still write and ask how I’m doing, etc. as my gifts this year (God that sounds so terribly Little House on the Prairie Pa and Laura finding the true meaning of Christmas episode, doesn’t it?! Gag!). You know what I mean though. And you also get why I’m not going to end this little note on some campaign promissory trick thingee. (And I promise – as your phone sex girl with braces – that I won’t let you down. I will suck, lick, and create stories and together, you and I….) Although not holding to promises would fit right in with that analogy/comparison now wouldn’t it? What I will say is – winter break is coming. And with it – 6 weeks of only one class (coughMATHcough). And I will have lots of frustrations to get out, and plenty of opportunities to bribe professors for a passing grade. Translation: I’ll be logged on much more frequently, lovelies!

Not sure if I’ll write again until after finals (2 weeks and counting…). Not that you’ve expected me to write in this except for 3 times a year (mainly opportunities to mention my wishlist), but I do have it on my list of things I need to do more of in 2012, so don’t abandon all hope. Not going to do anything to that outdated schedule page until after finals, either. Sorry if any of you are still looking at that page for guidance. Best bet is to check my twitter updates:
Follow @celinawetdreams
I make attempts to let you know when I’m logged in and when I’ll be logged in. And when I’m sleeping. When I’m eating. When I’m going for a walk. When I’m attempting to lay off carbs. When I’ve broken up with yet another boyfriend. When I’m looking for yet another boyfriend. When I’ve eaten too many peanut butter cups, peach candies, or popcorn, etc. If you see I’m available – give it a chance and call me up to say hi or groan, or demand things from me or whatever. lol. If I’m on it’s more than likely because I need a bit of relief or break or diversion so don’t think you’re bothering me. If I’m on by accident I just won’t answer. You should all know that by now, although I’m trying to be more “on” when I’m ready to take calls…

Think that’s enough of a “short” update for now. Hope you all had a fulfilling Turkey day and that the rest of your Holidays are bright and festive! Meet me under the tree? You’ll be glad you did!