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!

As many of my readers know (well - long term readers…) I have smoked off and on for the better part of … well - a year or so. (that’s the story I tell my parents and I’m sticking to that, k?) and about a year ago I went on the patch to stop smoking. Well - I started again after just a few weeks. So - I’ve grown tired of the little hints that my family throws my way about how nasty smoking is and how horrible it is for you and blah blah blah. Oh - and I also read a little chapter on free radicals in biology and happen to know that … well - smoking breeds those little bastards. So I officially went BACK ON the patch today. (waits for the applause to die down.) Yup - all smoking calls will be purely role playing for me from now on, boys. It’s true. I want to be free radical free - and also would enjoy talking through my mouth and not a tube thingee in my neck. I also realized that no matter how bad biology sucks at the moment - I still think I would rather enjoy living a while longer. I’m sure things will get better. So there we have it. It’s official.

For those of you who are fortunate enough to never have picked up the rather nasty habit of smoking (which I am not ashamed to say still appeals to me in a sick, twisted, demented sort of way) - let me explain a few things. The patch takes care of the nicotine part of things. I get a constant rush of nicotine for at least 2 more months. The amount gets lower and lower as the weeks go by - but the nicotine is still in my system thanks to a rather fashion forward clear sticky patch on my left shoulder blade. However (BIG COMMA INSERTED HERE____), the habit of having something in my mouth - something in my fingers - inhaling - blowing out and the whole damn ritual … is quite another cross to bear. What the hell was going to go in my mouth now? What was I going to do with my fingers? How was I going to have those moments away from it all - where I could totally take in nature and fresh (*cough*) air? I know I know! I would go to the DOGGY PARK! So off Jackson and I went - with my mom in tow - to discover the world of doggy parks.

This particular doggy park has 2 areas. The small dog area (ankle biters) and the big dog area (where the MEN hang out and compare their dogs to the others in the area.) Jackson and I went through door #1. Jackson cowardly hid behind me for about the first 5 minutes - and then sniffed a few of the dogs butts (”Hey! I’m Jack … who are you and where do you live?”) and politely allowed others to do the same (”Nice to meet you, Misty - I’m Jack and my person and I live on the other side of town!”) and then he was off. My little man ran - and barked - and ran some more. I laughed as I saw his fur flying away from his face - his mouth open in some lop sided grin - while 2 smaller dogs nipped at his heels. For about an hour I played and ran after - and enjoyed him enjoy his freedom and never once did I think to myself “I wish I had a smoke” - or want to trade the time with him and my mother with time alone out back puffing away another 4 dollars and 75 cents. The Doggy Park will see me often. Jackson napped for about 3 hours afterwards - and I discovered something that we both could do together that didn’t endanger (well - so far) each other’s health and well being.

In the evening, when I normally log in to take some calls - I was invited to watch a scary movie with three 13 year olds. I could not pass them up - and so the 4 of us cuddled up on my aunt and uncle’s bed and watched Disturbia. We ate icecream, screamed at sounds coming from the attic (still have no idea what the hell is up there but I sure as hell am NOT going to investigate!), and held each other’s hands through the scary parts. Soon it was 11:00PM - and my first day of not smoking was nearly behind me. So I signed in about 2 hours ago. I apologize.

So for anyone who smokes and is looking to stop - you may join me and Tiffy in our support group. It’s not as much fun as the doggy park - but it will do your spirit and your body good, I believe. Thanks, Tiffy, by the way, for joining in the struggle with me. I don’t think I would be able to do this with out you. (hands Tiffy a red vine licorice stick) << They really do work. Honest.

I’m exhausted and Jackson is out like a light. I think I’ll join him. Not on the floor of course - but tucked inside of my bed. Warm - safe - with a nice clear sticky thing on my back - promising many more adventures, many more days - and many more challenges I’m sure to overcome.

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.

So Jackson had his surgery. I didn’t have a clue how emotionally exhausted I would be from the whole ordeal. I went to pick Jackson up around 4:00PM on Friday - he practically leaped out of the assistant’s arms into mine. I just pressed my cheek into his fur and inhaled. I just held him for 2 hours when I got home - and then we hopped into bed where we slept until around 10:00PM. I signed in for a minute or two - and then went back to bed. I caught a few customers - but not many. Today I went to the gym while Jackson slept - and then the rest of the day was spent yelling at him not to lick his balls - and feeding him small amounts of his kibble while praying for him to poop. He hasn’t yet. I don’t know if I should be worried. He seems to be - at the most part - the same Ole Jackson - minus a few friends. He even humped his stuffed doggy this evening for good measure. I have noticed he is a bit more clingy - and a bit more eager to lay down and just chill - but when he’s “up” he’s running around, energetic, and as funny as he ever was.

I’m not sure if it was Jackson’s surgery and the stress associated with it that did it - or if it was just a little virus running around Southern California - but I got a tiny bit of laryngitis. As you recall I had a little gift that I was planning on giving - but I couldn’t quite get it out. While most of the people I spoke to in the last few days have complimented me on my husky smoker voice - it’s frustrating when trying to speak on calls - and I certainly didn’t want to record anything - not saying that was part of the surprise or anything - but … you know, if I had wanted to actually record anything I wouldn’t be able to because my voice was just not there. It comes and goes and it really doesn’t hurt even though it must sound like it does. Instead of fighting it - I just decided to chill out and spend a little extra time with Jack - and a little extra time sleeping and healing myself, hoping that Jackson would do the same and his little body would return back to normal as quickly and painlessly as possible.

I had no idea that owning a dog would be this emotional, rewarding, frightening, expensive … basically had no idea that it would be life changing. I suddenly feel like taking my parents out to breakfast in the morning and paying for it, even. I should write my mother a lovely letter - that she can frame - and apologize for all the times I gave her heart attacks and didn’t appreciate the sacrifices she made so that I could have a good life, ya know? I don’t know how people do it. I don’t know how older mature people do it - or even the few people I know that had kids when they were younger than I am. I have much respect for them - regardless of whether or not they have all the money in the world - or need help from family, friends, or the government - parenthood is no joke.

So Jackson sleeps… and what am I going to do with my time here? Seems that most of the world is asleep right now but I’ll stay logged on for a bit in case anyone wants to play with a husky voiced braced teenager. I’m feeling pretty agreeable so you could easily take advantage of me. I’m not feeling very dominant, however - so if you’re looking for CBT I may not be the one to deliver it. (lol) - anything else though I’m game for.

Thanks to everyone who sent notes, messaged me, offered up little pieces of advice (the bitter apple worked PERFECTLY, SBJ!), kept me company and told me I wasn’t a bad parent while Jackson was under the knife (Tiffy) and took my mind and heart off of my troubles, cramps, and voice in other ways (Chris, Mike, Doc, Johnny, John, and my little addict - you know who you are! *grin*.) I really appreciate it and I owe you.

Have a great rest of the weekend, everyone. I’ll be on for a bit tonight - will be on for a little bit tomorrow morning/mid afternoon - and then for my normal shift of about 8-12 Sunday Evening. Look for me then!

It seems only yesterday… Jackson has now grown into quite the little man. His sexual appetite would give some of my customer’s a run for their money. The little Zebra Minx use to be his partner of choice - but soon she was replaced with an oversized dog that Jackson mounts every which way he possibly can. The other day Jackson was humping a pile of blankets - and just a few minutes ago I caught him eyeing my leg. I don’t want to give the impression that he’s a horn dog or anything that randy - but he is a feisty one. On top of his urge to hump everything that moves he also has the energy of a … 2 year old. The other day I opened up my little “room” to him. He came in after first going potty (Gooooooood Puppppppy!) and then proceeded to give the place a little look over. Everything to his satisfaction, he sat by my feet and went after the pig’s ear that makes me really consider becoming a vegetarian again. The little ear looks so sad - all pointy and hard and barbequed. Jackson lying down anywhere was a first. He usually goes goes goes until I put him to bed. It might appear that he’s slowing down somewhat and becoming a little bit of a young man (at least his budding hormones seem to indicate that) but I’ve been informed he will be very much a puppy for another year (at least.) But back to his testes. They need to go.

He hasn’t been “marking” inside as of yet - but he does spend about 30 minutes of his day of biting ankles, chasing his toys around the back yard, barking at the neighbors, eating pig ears and kibble and treats, and looking adorable - spraying every tree, shrub, bush and post in our yard. The vet told me 4-6 months, and after he graduated from Puppy School last Friday with honors (YAY JACKSON!!!!) I made the decision to go on and get it done. Friday morning I will take my almost 6 lb ball of white fluff to the vet where he will undergo surgery to remove 2 little balls. I am not sure I will be able to handle it. Jackson seems a bit oblivious to it all and hopefully he’ll stay that way and then quickly forget everything they do to him on Friday. *sigh* I’m a mess.

So anyways - I’m doing pretty good on my resolutions from yesterday. Still working on my “gift” but that should definitely be up and ready to go by the end of the evening. I logged in earlier this afternoon and was pleasantly surprised by my a lovely tongue bath, a naughty blackmail by my next door neighbor, a particularily kinky encounter with the Pastor in his office (tsk tsk!) and a few other naughty fantasies - too naughty to mention *wink*. I’m pretty free this January - classes aren’t going to be resuming until February for me - so I’ll try to set aside a few late morning/afternoons for you early risers. (!!) As a result of my taking calls this afternoon, though, I didn’t get to the gym until late - and didn’t run my errands until after that. I was 15 minutes late signing in this evening and so I kinda failed. Not totally failed - but sort of kinda failed on one of my “resolutions” I set yesterday. Hopefully though you all will forgive me and we can just count today as a successful CeCe followed through and actually did what she said she was going to do today day. How about it? Can I make a deal?

Talk with you later - still have work to do!!