Everyone needs one. Best gay friend. I usually call my best gay friends “Will”. I’ve been with out a Will for many months. Wills are great to have. They tell you when your breath stinks, when your outfit sucks, and, most importantly, that you’re still okay despite these excruciating flaws. Marcus is my Will. And today he asked me to sit next to him in class.

Marcus has this ability to do 50 things at the same time, and keep track of every one of them while making sarcastic remarks. He is raw – like wide open raw. He doesn’t care what other people think and will read this amazing rant about his latest break up – and will never apologize or shy away from the mention of his partner, gay sex, or the obvious passion the two of them shared, and I loved him for it. Just like that. I decided. He was this year’s Will. I only say this year because next year Marcus will probably not even be around anymore. He’ll have moved on, because he does that. He will pack up and move to some city and take on some job he probably can’t stand, and he’ll write some awesome shit. He’ll probably find a new lover to share his passions with and he’ll take in everything, like only he can, while reading a book, tapping out a rhythm with his foot, and slamming someone with just the right amount of classiness that makes the very person you’re teasing laugh at the sheer brilliance of your wit. And whoever happens to be that year’s Grace …well, enjoy the seat. You’re the lucky one.

I feel like I should be on a ship or something – commenting about the crew and the weather and potential issues with icebergs. What I meant to imply by the title, however, was that I’m experiencing something greater than a block and more the size of a large log. That weak attempt at a description can only make for a more convincing illustration of my problem. I simply can not write. All weekend long I couldn’t write. I worked a hell of a lot. I talked to most of you and did a pretty decent job. But writing? Didn’t write a lick. And I blame my teacher for it.

S.N. has heard all about this already and has given me some stellar advice. Which I might take eventually. Especially since my way of dealing with it went so well (end sarcasm). Basically what happened is that my Professor told me that I was brilliant and that a piece of my writing was the best piece of writing she had read in the 10 years of teaching. And then she said a whole bunch of other stuff – basically about my talent and that she hoped I was planning on being a poet/writer and blah blah blah. And then she assigned a poem. And it’s due on Thursday. And I haven’t written anything. Because I suck. Everything I write is coming out like the biggest lump of trite, sappy, cliche bullshit ever written. She said she’d take a look at whatever I had written today and yeah – I don’t have anything to show her. And what I could show her would really make me die of embarrassment. And instead of writing my way out of this block I just keep pissing and moaning about being called brilliant. Which is really all I ever wanted. Imagine wanting to do something so bad and only needing a word from someone whose opinion you value (is that who’s or whose? I fricken can never remember that rule for some reason. I think it’s whose, right? Cuz it’s not who is opinion – it’s whose….let me dictionary.com it.. yep – WHOSE). So you finally get that “yup – this is what you should do” word from a person who knows what the fuck she’s talking about … you – or I – should be relieved, right? Which basically brings me to the conclusion I’ve known for a long time: you really can’t satisfy me. I am unsatisfiable. insatiable. hard to please.

Ok – enough of that.

I’ll get over it. Pressure has always made me shine like a diamond – UGH – enough of the horrible cliched madness, CeCe!

In other news – I approached a guy in my writing class and practically begged him to let me be in his group. He told me that I was at the top of his list. That makes me happy because no one wants to throw themselves on someone who doesn’t want to be bothered and also – so incredibly happy that I’m on the top of someone’s list, too. Shit – I must have blown away some people during our first reading, huh? Sure wish I knew what the hell I wrote that was so impressive…

I actually have a funny story about every class I’m taking. But I have to save something for another day. Let me just say for now that my Poetry class is seriously hilarious to me. There is one girl in my class that will make her way into my novel as the obnoxious typical poet/writer wanna be girl. I just want to be careful because she just might surprise us all with an awesome poem on Thursday while my muddled mess will sound something like a beat up recycled Anne Sexton poem that will make everyone else want to slit their wrists.

More Later.

P.S. Sending out the minutes for missed calls this past week (or two) now. Also for feedback and generally putting up with my whining ass.

That’s all I got. A minute.

But I wanted to update everyone on the goings on of CeCe. I’m going to let you all in on a secret – but I am not looking for sympathy. Really. It’s just a heads up type of thing.

First week of classes kicked my ass. Turns out taking 5 classes (mostly literature) is pretty dang difficult. But REALLY fun. I mean REALLY fun. I’m having a wonderful time. Most of my classes are flowing into the other and I feel like I’m finally getting the whole college experience. There’s been several moments where I have been seriously ELATED to be learning. And I read some really incredible text – that was really difficult to read on a whole comprehension level, you know? And I aced my first quiz and could have written an A paper on everything I had read. I just “got” it. It all started to make sense. All the history and literature classes and PHILOSOPHY classes and Political Science classes – all those classes finally met at one point this semester and it’s like the planets all aligned. I don’t know if I’m making sense but it’s a great feeling to be able to use all this learnin’.

The result is – I’m still trying to figure out where study time goes and where play time goes. I figure it might be another week before I can put up a schedule. I know I haven’t had an up to date one since I was 18 (she says tongue in cheek).

This is what I’m going to do in the meantime: I’m going to log in when I get a chance. I don’t know how long I will last – but I will be sending you free minutes if I miss a call. and don’t go fibbing because I get a report of who calls and who doesn’t answer! So please don’t hesitate to call if you see me on. If I don’t answer I’m probably drooling on my pillow, in class and forgot to turn off my phone line, grabbing a quick bite to eat or something like that. Again – if I miss your call I WILL send you a couple of minutes for next time as an incentive to try me again the next time I’m on.

I got to lay down for a bit. This up at 7 and to bed at 2:00AM is beginning to take a toll on my eyes! But tomorrow today is my last day before the weekend so it’s going to be PARTY PLAY TIME at CeCe’s for sure, though!

Hope to talk/play soon!

I have been SO busy the past week. Finishing up with summer classes and getting prepared for a full load (of classes naughty boys!) in the Fall. I don’t know if I’m biting off more than I can chew or if I’m just eager to finish up but I’ll be taking 4 classes. One on line and the rest on campus. I am sure I’ll have tons of writing to do because 3 of the classes are literature classes. I’m a little bit nervous to tell you the truth, but I’m also really excited to spread my wings and fly in the areas I excel at. We’ll see how things go. I’ll keep you posted.

This is really just a quick little post in between things – I’m about to go to a meeting and before that I need to shower and change. My friend and I (who lives next door) have been increasing our exercise quite a bit. I want to walk a half marathon this winter and I’m trying to get prepared for that. We’re up to five miles right now so we have quite a bit of work to do! On the days we’re not training for our marathon we’re biking. I’m finally putting my pink bike to work – and with out the basket for Jackson. He has to wait until I’m finished with my ride before he gets one! We biked for 10 miles the other day and at first I was kind of laughing at how easy it was. But I ride a bike with no gears (it’s a pink cruiser) and there were quite a bit of hills along the way. I got home and I walked like I had been fucking all morning. Use your imagination to give you whatever visual works for you! My thighs are still a little sore today.

So I’ll be logging in after my meeting – probably will log in around 8:00PM – 8:30 at the latest. After my bike ride tomorrow I’ll be hanging out so I hope to speak with some of you then. I’m off and biking/walking by 7:00AM PST these days so I know I’ve missed quite few of my morning guys. I’ll try to make it up to you on the weekend!

Hope your summer is ending on a great note. Stay cool (or dry!) and try to stay out of trouble unless I’m on the phone!

Come dream with me … you’ll be glad you did!

How much does CeCe like/love makeup? To the moon and stars and back again.

I am pretty sure I experienced several orgasms, saw Jesus, AND achieved the ultimate nirvana today. I was able to go to a make up show and see not only my beloved Inglot, but also Make Up Forever, Stilla, Crown Brushes, and several other cosmetic companies – all in one location and all on one floor. They called to us with deals and discounts we could not resist and we fell to their wickedness like a sissy falls for all things prissy and pink. As soon as the “ding” sounded from the elevator, we knew that our time had arrived and as we (my friends and I) stepped into what can only be described as heaven, I knew that this was no ordinary “Penthouse Floor” – this was Jesus Christ’s sanctuary – if he was a woman who enjoyed cosmetics as much as we did, that is. We knew where we needed to go first and attacked the Inglot counter. There were blushes and nail polishes and lipsticks and glosses and so many other things I can not even describe them all. And when we had had our fill we went to count the damage. Can I just say that discounts are HEAVEN? I got almost everything on my list – wait – I got everything on my list, I just revised it once I saw all the stuff that was available. So my ORIGINAL list was fulfilled. And I still have money left over. Which makes me feel like I’ve failed more than succeeded.

I’m wondering if my makeup addiction is like porn for that supposed porn addict. I’m so excited to see the colors and the palettes and all that goes along with it. I dive in, seeking only pleasure and not thinking about the ramifications. And then I’m seriously high for hours afterwords. Of course the level of highness and the length of the high depends solely on how much I’ve purchased. Our high lasted until about 4:00PM. And then it hit me. What. Have. I. Done? Surely there were other things I could have done with my money, right? Did I really have to spend THAT much? How much makeup does a girl need? Will he call? Did he even like me? Did he turn his back on me after he came? When he said he had a good time did that mean that he doesn’t want to repeat the experience or was he just being polite or … Yeah. Seriously. Inglot became my boyfriend today. Inglot was no longer a brand of cosmetic I longed for, but represented that boy I always tried to have but was unsure I could ever really obtain exclusive girlfriend level. He was that wild kid – the trouble maker maybe. Or the one who was otherwise “unattainable” that I always thought I could get. And did I try everything: Letters, Perfume, Sexy Lingerie … you know the girl – borderline frantic and most assuredly desperate. The girl who keeps checking her phone for a dial tone and goes to theknot.com to plan her wedding, colors and flowers sure that Inglot is the one.

But maybe Inglot just isn’t that into me. Maybe this was all there was – a few hours of ecstasy and the memory that will last a lifetime. Maybe the baby aspirin smell of the lipglosses will be the only thing left to remember him by and one day you’ll live to write a fantastic short story about it. Or perhaps just a lonely blog entry that won’t capture anyone’s attention — well, except for those girls who have also had their run ins with the Inglots, Macs, and BobbiBrowns.

To be continued.

Meanwhile – back in reality: I missed my regulars this weekend. I know I’ve been a little away and stuff but I didn’t think you’d take it so hard. In your wake you left me with the most rudest boys EVER. I’ve started to block them. You know the ones – the 2 minute “what are you wearing baby do you want to be naughty for me? Tell me what I’m going to do to you.” We all know that that doesn’t work for those guys I’ve just met (tell them boys!). I don’t guess and predict the future with boys who call me when their parents have left for the evening and the cable is out. A few years ago when I was 18 as well (haha) I did. But lately I have found my patience ebbing away like my cash earlier today at the make up extravaganza. So not that anyone who is reading this needs to know, but because I am in the middle of a rant and a list of things that will get you blocked could be mildly entertaining, here is a list of the top 5 things that will get you blocked by CeCe Andrews:

1. Failing to read my description or even my name (hint: TEENwetdream) and asking me to play your elderly grandmother in a nursing home who you’ve always been fond of (not that there’s anything wrong with that).
2. Getting on the phone, telling me to moan, then hanging up after giving me the only thing to moan about (hint: it’s not that you’re turning me on).
3. Hanging up with out saying Goodbye (at least). I know sometimes you have to go in a hurry. But a little note letting me know you had a good time would be appreciated. You don’t have to say “Thank you” even though it’s common courtesy that you do, but at least saying Goodbye is civil. I’m a real person under all this sexy cuteness afterall!
4. If at any point during or after the call you decide to push buttons to get back to the menu or leave feedback or, I don’t know, play Mary Had A Little Lamb for shits and giggles, you will find yourself unable to call me. Pushing buttons into someone’s ear as if they can’t hear it is just plain rude. Accidents do happen and even I’ve been known to accidently push a few buttons (literally and figuratively) but doing so purposely will land you in my blocked list where you’ll have to deal with Mr Can’t say Goodbye, Mr Moan for me, and a grandson who is looking for his Grandmother. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, you understand.
5. And the top thing that will get your ass blocked quicker than a telemarketer is… Calling me up and saying “I don’t know” to any of the following questions: What kinds of things turn you on? What brought you to niteflirt this evening? Do you have any great fantasies we can act out? What’s your name? Are you human? Are you dreaming or am I and who is going to give us a “kick” so we wake the hell up (yeah – it’s a movie reference). You know why you called. Even if you can only say “moan” for me you have a chance of getting off. I’ll moan for Mr Moan for me, for the whole 2 minutes it takes for him to cum in his hand, hang up and go to bed. And THEN I’ll block him. However you, Mr. I Don’t Know, will have no satisfaction. I’m more likely to tell you to call someone else and just hang up.

Rant over. You all know if you’re reading this you’re not guilty. I don’t know why I continue to rant to all of you except I happen to know a few of you find it hysterically funny when I get all red faced and stomp my foot with my hands on my hips. After which you always offer your lap to me, along with my favorite ice cream and…

Hey – sounds like a great fantasy! Give me a call and we’ll finish it together! You’ll be glad you did.