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.

I must have mentioned before in this blog, that I’ve kept for — how many years now? Since I was 18? (lol), how many journals I have and how I like to collect them. I’m not particular about my journals, at least I never use to be, but I prefer something with a pretty cover. Probably because that is what I see most in my journals! (Meaning I never open them to write in them so I see the outside cover the most…did I just ruin the joke by explaining the obvious. Sorry ’bout that)

After a few challenging situations that happened in my life (Life is but a series of ups and downs. The secret is how well you handle the challenges you’ve been given. At least that’s what I’ve heard in some Eastern Religions), I came across a youtube video about Art Journals. Some people use books and “alter” them – paint over the pages and then journal on top of the pages type of thing. Other people use journals – water color paper journals, and others use the old school journals that I kind of collect, too. Some art journalists decide to make their own journals by binding together a number of water colored pages. Anyway – an art journal is exactly what it sounds like – a journal that you keep that features musings, stories, poems on top of a canvas (paper) that you’ve decorated with sketches, drawings, paintings, patterns, stamps, collages, etc. The art is made by using a variety of different tools: acrylic paints, water color pencils and crayons, markers, sharpies, fabric, paper, newspaper, ink…basically anything you can stick to a piece of paper. Eew. Not that.

There are a number of ways you can make a backdrop for your journal – and every new page is an opportunity to explore a new technique or just let your brain do what it wants. From the very first brush stroke I was hooked. Most times, with new ‘things’ I tend to get really excited about them and then as time goes on I get tired and move on to other things. An old client of mine use to joke with me that he had an expiration date. He figured people were on that same expiration schedule as the billions of new projects I try out each year. He’s quite wrong, by the way. It’s been my experience that customers often times outgrow me, seeking PSO’s on a greener pasture. Oooh – that reminds me of a caller I had a few weekends ago. Or just last weekend. Ugh. Time is blurring together with out school to act as the adhesive. Anyway – When I saw this project I immediately purchased everything I needed in order to take on this new hobby. And I’ve been purchasing things every since. Has this taken care of my make up obsession? Not really. But I am sharing my funds and deciding whether or not I’ll buy new water color pens or that new lip gloss I’ve heard so much about from MAC Cosmetics. Shocking I know.

But art journaling is ADDICTIVE! And more than addictive (which is really all anything needs to be in order for me to affix myself to it – permanently sometimes), it is also therapeutic and relaxing. I’ve done some great writing in my art journal and I’m learning to express myself using different mediums (don’t I sound like an artist?). I’m really not much of a scrapbooker. I’d like to be but I don’t have time for measurements and layouts and all that kind of stuff. I love the aesthetics of it, but I don’t enjoy the work achieving it. Art Journaling doesn’t use exact measurements or layout and doesn’t even appreciate pretty and cohesive. It doesn’t care about your mistakes; you just use them or cover them up and they become the texture or the “guts” of your canvas. It’s doodling meets diary. Scribbles meets scribe. Writer meeting the artist and working together to achieve something that can’t be reached by just painting or just writing alone. Ooooh! I just LOVE it!

So as I was saying earlier (I think), art journaling has helped me think of things I haven’t really thought about in a long time. It helps me work things out – helps me make sense of things. I get a chance to listen to what my soul is telling me – with out a censor. It’s quite different from writing in a blog on line. Though I’ve tried to exude a type of transparency in my writing, my privacy does demand a sort of decorum on what I discuss. So the best I can do is give bits and pieces here and there and hope that someone who craves connections as much as me latches on to the truth and rides it for as long as the current carries them. I might share some of my art journal drawings here. But I might need to password protect them. I haven’t quite figured out (and I hope I never do!) how to censor myself in there – so I’m bound to let a few details fly that you may (or may not) be aware of. Hopefully you all can respect my need for privacy and just ask me for the password (which I don’t anticipate I’ll have a problem sharing with ANYONE) and you can see anything I wish to share. It will be in my secret chamber (enter evil laugh here).

So enough about that…

I have received a plethora of gifts the past few weeks and I realized that I have not publicly thanked ‘you’ for them. Keeping in mind the need for people’s privacy… thank you MJ for the nail colors/art pens and things. Absolutely 100 percent love. Now I can also make mini statements on my toes and fingers. Brilliant! KIL – Thanks for the stockings (Betsey Johnson rules. I’ve received SO many compliments on them!) and for the ton of make up you’ve supplied my addicted soul with through out the holidays (and the years before…) Thanks to the wise old Prof for the sound of music things, and the perfume, make up, books and music. Thank you DL for the tribute that helped me pay for my phone bill, my speeding ticket, and a few trips to Sephora (can’t lie). I’ll miss you. I’m not just saying that because of the money aspect. Entirely. (he knows I’m kidding sort of!). Thanks to Kai who spoiled me way too much this past month. Not only did Kai spend time talking to me a few weekends ago, but he’s also absorbed more than his fair share of “CeCe Lashings”. And he didn’t deserve any of them. Or very few.:) Thanks also for the care packages over Christmas Vacation, as well as all the other surprises and treats you sent my way unselfishly. Thank you to my Sarah Nanette for the Tori Amos Cds and the wonderful book that I will start in the next few days! Totally surprised me with that one – and with your CD’s I think my Tori collection is pretty much complete! Thank you Jab, Beeto, holdem, chburr, afriendlyvoice and loserpig for your tributes. Whether these gifts were inspired by Christmas, My birthday, or just my sparkling personality (haha) – thank you. Thank you to everyone who wrote up feedback for me the past months, even though I haven’t rewarded you in like forever!, you still find time to leave me a ‘thank you’ and a great review, letting me know you’ve appreciated our time together. I’m so sorry I didn’t thank each and every one of you sooner.

So that’s it! Would you look at that!? 2 entries in January so far. Pretty impressive if I do say so myself. But let’s not jinx it. Have a great week. I’ll be free until February so I’m trying to log in more during the day. Feel free to drop me a note if you’d like to make an appointment. I’ll try to get back to you as soon as possible. Oh – and I know a few of you are waiting on some recordings from me. I have NOT forgotten. I am just waiting for the privacy to do them. I like for them to be authentic the Hitachi wand sounds like a small airplane landing – not exactly subtle – so I have to be careful and play when my family isn’t around. I’m not old enough to not care who hears me. Not sure I’ll ever be — but that’s another post.

Talk soon!

A good friend of mine reminded me the other day that I don’t really talk much about the good things that happen in school – the good classes or the moments that I’m really clear about. I don’t really mention the successes I’ve had but I’m all too quick to talk about the struggles in Algebra. Well, he didn’t exactly say all that, but I’m pretty sure this is what was alluded to. And he was right.

So allow me a moment (or five) to talk about one of the great classes I took this past semester–English Literature II. In this class we discussed American Literature from 1800′s – present time. I was in heaven from the word “Yawp”. There is nothing more satisfying to me than to submerge myself into a poem and find hidden – between the cadences and alliterations – a deeper and truer meaning. And then to be able to discuss all the new findings with students of like mind… OMG. Seriously amazing! Orgasmic really. I dig the whole relational thing. I like knowing I’m a part of something bigger than myself, and I enjoy finding the connectedness between me and people who endured things way before I was a thought in my parent’s mind. I like reading a short story about a blue heron, and understanding how the little girl feels. I like reading Tennessee Williams and having mixed feelings about Amanda -enjoying her spark and wit and humor but hating her sarcasm and manipulation and then concluding that she’s one of the best characters ever written for stage. I like discovering how the drive for the American Dream detours and confuses Willy Loman and realizing then that everyman at some point of his life IS Willy Loman. I love diving into poems about a red wheel barrel and struggling with what makes that a poem.

Some of my best gifts this Christmas centered around my love of literature. I received the entire collection of the Paris Reviews, for example, along with the entire collection of Jane Austen and the History of American Literature book. My room is lined with books anyway, but even more so now, and all the books I’ve read have specific passages that have made me let out my own version of a yawp. Seriously. I dig books. And I love digging for meaning in them. Words are deliberate. I find it a thrill to unearth the reason behind their placement.

So when the bell chimed the arrival of 2011, I found myself wondering about that song about old acquaintances. I always thought that it meant that you should let bygones be bygones. Out with the old, in with the new – that type of thing. I seriously thought it was a sucky song to be singing among a group of people you were “celebrating” the new year with. Nothing like telling some of your closest friends that you’re looking forward to forgetting them, right? Wrong. I’m so wrong. The song is so not about forgetting and so much about remembering. The NYE celebrations have turned everything into a “do it better” opportunity – and a discarding of the things that didn’t work out from the year before so we can have a much better year this year. Does that work for anyone ever? I’ve yet to meet a new year’s resolution I’ve kept. Should old times be forgot… Let’s take the time now to remember them along with the friends we’ve made is really what that song is suggesting. Should = unless. Should=just in case. Should does not equal “Should not”.

So I’m not saying goodbye to bad habits or bad relationships or bad friendships or bad choices this year. I’m remembering them and giving them honor for the things that I’ve learned by having them. But more positively, I’m remembering the good things that happened this year – and the good friendships I’ve gained and the great classes I’ve taken and the great teachers who have taught me great things. Just in case I forget all the blessings I’ve had this year – I’ll toast to them. And yeah, I am definitely toasting to the great callers I’ve had this year, too. While some of you might have to remind me of your names or fantasies, the experience of having had the opportunity of sharing a few minutes with you (or several hours!) has been a blessing too enormous for me to accurately express in a teen wet dream’s blog. But know that just because I have not yet learned the art of conveying what I feel – or at least not as eloquently as my dear Truman Capote or as tenderly and thoughtfully as Robert Frost, I still recognize (and should not forget) the significance of having every one of you a part of my life this past year.

Many many thanks. And happy happy new year.

I feel conflicted about Vegas. On one hand I’m intrigued by all the flashing lights and sounds of the slot machines. There is a part of me that enjoys the smell of cigars, cigarettes and quiet desperation. And I get a sick, twisted pleasure from successfully walking past the club promoters and other salesmen types peddling their wares every step you take. I keep waiting for the sin to start, and so far I’ve only noticed it in my own lust, and extreme, sick, perverted greed in playing the slot machines and poker on the machines. I’m not bold enough to play with the big boys at the tables, and my pay check won’t allow me to bet on black with those older kids on the roulette tables. So I sit with the ladies who play in their sweat pants and heels – smelling slightly of musk and Ben Gay, and obsessively pushing my pennies in hopes of attaining the big pay out.

There is a ton of food. I had one of the best meals of my entire life the other day. Comparing it to the best orgasm I’ve ever had? I’d take the pork chop every time. Yeah. It was that good. I would give up my hitachi wand for a pork chop at Del Monicos. I know that some of you might be threatened by that, but I have to tell the truth. I. Would. Make. Love. To. A. Pork. Chop. from Emerill’s Del Monicos. In public. There is also a ton of shopping. And also a ton of women in tight, little skirts and thigh high boots that are all the rage this season. And then there’s me. Why is CeCe in Vegas? No, I’m not getting married in the 5 kajillion chapels I’ve seen around town. And no, I’m not in any show (that I know of). I’m just spending time with some people I love. Taking some time to evaluate what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. Taking a little bit of a break from the hustle of my own life. Seeking some sort of clarity. Some sort of peace. Looking for some answers. Yeah – I’m basically in Vegas for a lot of bad reasons – but here for a very good reason. A few of you know why. I’d like to keep it that way before I make it totally public. Not to contradict myself, but I really am ecstatic to be here. There is nothing quite like it. And I’m looking forward to sinning a little bit. You know, doing the city proud. Except internet access is 15 dollars a pop and Im not sure how my cell phone handles long distance calls and if it would show up on my parents phone bill.. Yeah – they still have me on their phone plan, what do you want from me? So anyway, sinning through niteflirt will not likely be an option.

So I’m sorry that I have been MIA this weekend. The good news is that I’m coming home on Sunday and will promptly sign in and make up for all the hours I’ve been away. I’m out of school so I can basically sign in overnight through Monday afternoon. You’ll hardly miss me. Well, actually I know you will. But it will be a pain that is temporary and not permanent. I had planned on taking the time to make a few recordings and put out a few pictures and … you know what they say about the plans of mice and CeCe. Yup, they often go astray.

On a side note, do you know they charge 5 fucking dollars to get cash out of a machine here? And do you know that they make it virtually impossible to find your way out of the fucking casinos? I’m sorry that I used a form of the word fuck in the last few sentences, but fuck. It’s really annoying. I spent at least 15 minutes trying to leave Caesar’s palace the other evening. I just wanted to get back to the hotel room and go to bed. After spending about 10 of those 15 minutes turning around in circles, I finally was able to maneuver my way out of that place. If ever there was a fire in Vegas, people would die. Seriously. You’re not getting out. Might as well spin the wheel and bet on black.
Your odds would be better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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