I got home from the gym not so long ago and I kicked my own ass. It’s strange… I thought that I didn’t really have the ability to push myself that hard with out having to prove something to my clients and by that I mean: I would push myself so that they would see that I wasn’t above sweating like a pig if things had to come to that. I knew that they were looking to me to do things - and I knew that I had to be some directional beam for them to follow and so I pushed myself for them. But ever since I quit my job (did I mention that I quit my job? Oh - I didn’t? Well, I quit my job. Long story and a rather boring one - but I quit the main job at the main gym I work at. I’m still teaching a few classes here and there at a nearby gym - but the main job has gone bye bye) I’ve been wondering if I could really push myself for ME.

Tonight I got my answer.

I put on my little pink shuffle and I got my ass to work. I worked so hard my arms ache right now. I worked so hard that my boobs were sweating. You know that not so attractive stream of sweat that kinda runs down a woman’s shirt when she’s working out … yeah. Matter of fact, I think the small of my back and the top of my ass was sweating too. I mean I kicked my own butt back and forth and around the gym. I did pushups galore - and then did crunches on the ball and then I just sat there on the yoga mat stretching and drinking my water thinking to myself … DAMN! I feel good!

I had never though of myself as having those little endorphin moments. I told others about it because as a trainer that’s my job to do. “Keep it up hon and those endorphs will start kicking in and you’ll have enough energy to do 30 more minutes … you can do it!!” Yeah - that was me. And God Save The Queen, I was right! I was on a physical high. I felt good and stronger and ready to take on anything and everything. My head was clear and I wasn’t tired and groggy anymore. All the tension and anger I had been feeling earlier was soaked up in the little white towel that hung around my neck. I felt fantabulous.

I guess not working at that gym and just working out there will be good for me after all. Thought it might be a little difficult, but turns out it felt just perfect.

Earlier today I had a little bit of an endorphin moment also. It wasn’t just the calls I was getting - and for the past few days I have gotten a good share of calls (with a significant amount of newer callers, too…) - it was the caliber of the calls that I was getting. It was as though every caller and I just “fit”. Sometimes after I say hi and the guy says hi there is this moment that I wonder if we’re going to “stick” or not. But 99 percent of my callers that I’ve had for the past few days have stuck like glue. It’s like we just get each other. After the first few calls I just got this burst of energy and excitement like this … yeah - like this endorphin high. I felt like I could talk all nite (and practically did) and I was just in my zone. It’s almost like I gave off this vibe and the people who thought it stank stayed far away (lol) and the people that thought it smelled pretty damn good came in closer for a bigger whiff. I’ll get to a few of the nice things I’ve heard in a minute… but before I do…

I wrote this note back to 2n’s the other day which was so full of things that I didn’t want to say - even though I didn’t write a word about them. It was as though my feelings had hidden messages to them and they were peeking out all through my email at him. And so he called. And the most amazing thing happened… he said, “We’re just gonna talk.” Now to be fair, 2n’s isn’t the first person to have said this to me - but what was so amazing about it is that he knew to do it because of the note I had written to him that was filled with all kinds of angst, I guess the right word would be. So he just wanted to see what was up. And boy did he get an ear full. The result of this phone call is - I realized - that I need to start being a bit more clear about my intentions - and about my expectations - and about my limits. I don’t necessarily need to run people over with it - but I do need to be clear about them myself and more than clear be happy and satisfied with my decisions so that I can clearly communicate them to friends, family, etc. So thanks, 2n’s. You really helped me - and you really assisted me in being able to continue getting to know you with out any of that old crap tainting our stuff. You were a great friend to me today when I needed one - and I won’t forget or take that for granted.

Every once in a while people ask for my advice. I never really know if this is just play time with a twist - or if they really wanna know what CeCe would do. Hmmmm. That’s kinda catchy… I could work on that a little, I think. *wink* Ok - so anyways - So I get a call from someone and we are talking and talking and I think that maybe I should start talking about sex sometime soon. I mean - I don’t mind talking to you guys - you know that - but I’m not going to suck up all your money and then when Ms. “you have one minute remaining” lady comes on ask you to put in some more money so we can talk about the best way to prepare tuna casserole. Unless that’s your thing, of course. So I kinda try to make a segway - but poor Mr. Vin says he isn’t really ready for all that. He tells me about this trip that he’s taken fairly recently and that he didn’t realize how beautiful 18 year olds in bikinis could be. (Silly Wabbit!). So I start to give him some advice. Even though he hasn’t asked me for any. But I know a cry for help when I see hear one. I told him about all the things that little 18 year olds love about men in their 40’s. I told him about all the things he has that impresses 18 year old girls - and how better to utilize these attributes for the best outcome. I dismissed him from class after he wrote on the chalk board that he was a “stud muffin and he had something 18 year old girls wanted” 100 times and then told him school was out. So thank you Mr. Vin for the exciting time in school. I hope you have been doing your homework. I haven’t forgotten that you will be doing a field trip in a few days - and should you need a refresher course … give me a call. I’d be happy to help a student in need out. Hehehe.

One more quick mention before I get to the sweet comments for the day…

My little Dave man. How ever did we meet - and what a great and important playful relationship we are developing. Did you hear my voice change a little when you gave me some “helpful advice”? I think it was because I’m always in a more dominant role with you - so to have you speak up and tell me what you needed (which you definitely SHOULD do by the way!!!) I instantly went into some sort of submissive mode and thought I had disappointed you or something. It took me a while to recover - (like 10 seconds … which seems like a long time when something like that happens!) but afterwards I was really glad that it happened. No relationship (even on the phone!) is easy - and it meant a lot to me (and definitely was worth a mention here!) that you said something to me and trusted me to take in your notes and adapt and make it good. Thank you so much for that important lesson. I mean that sincerely, ya know.

Ok - So this post got away from me a bit… but it’s been awhile since I gave little “shout outs”.

I only really have room for one quick feedback (even though the tons I have gotten lately have been equally important and made me just as happy! ) When I read this feedback I grinned so hard I thought my cheek muscles would break. It’s so him, too… just clever and surprised almost at what a great time he had! LoL! Are you ok yet, hon? This is what my sweet caller I. said after our call yesterday:

• Well, well, well.:) I rarely leave written feedback but I feel compelled. This girl is a gem. One thing that’s rare is the ability to describe things in detail, like clothes, shoes, etc., and she really great at it, not to mention flexible and playful. And the voice is exactly as advertised, if not even better. Pleasing, young, sweet, and, again so rarely, real, not like someone trying to fake a young voice or even worse some kind of voice changing phone. Many definite callbacks and stars.

LOL! Oh my gosh. It just makes me smile all over again. First of all I. you are sweet - plain and simple. 2nd - I’m obsessive about details. I notice everything and it pisses me off sometimes that I can’t write exactly what I see. It’s like there aren’t enough words sometimes to make it clear. So I’m glad that you appreciate that! Thank you so much for taking the time to leave feedback. It means a lot to me that you left feedback at all - but when I realized that you hardly ever do my head just got a little bit bigger! I’m looking forward to describing things and making you pleased again soon. Thanks for the great call.

Ok. 1 term paper later (this diary entry) and I’m going to wrap it on up. I will be working out tomorrow around 2:00PM - and am planning on going out for a bit tomorrow evening - so I’ll try to log in in between those times if I can. I’m also planning on going out on Saturday - as well as working out in the morning - so I’ll try to log on in between those engagements, too. I think I’m going to church on Sunday (hey - Sinners have souls, too!) to ask for forgiveness for all the things I plan on doing Friday and Saturday evening. But after that … I’ll be free until (looks on schedule) Monday, I think. Scary to not have much on my calendar. Going to have to change that el pronto.

Anyways … I’ll be around this weekend - hope to speak sometime during…

I’ve been asked to move in with a friend of mine from work. Not this work, sillies! From my GYM work. It started off innocently enough - but then it started to get a bit serious. And I’d really like to consider it. I’m actually considering it in a major way - but there is a part of me … I guess it’s called the responsible part of me, that knows that this would be a HUGE HUGE move for me - and one that may not turn out half as nice as my fantasy of it. Maybe that’s just being Debbie Downer though.

Can I at least just talk about it like it could actually happen, though? Like for a few paragraphs.

I would have my own room - well, actually my own MASTER BEDROOM complete with bath, ya know. That’s what that means! lol. And I would share the living space with my one and only roommate - and then I would have access to the pool (yeah - there is a pool) and the balcony. *sigh* It’s about 15 minutes from where I currently stay - and I would only have to really pay about 500-600 dollars a month. She’s having pity on me because well - I am a student, you know. It really sounds really nice. I really would like to do it. But then a part of me realizes that to make such a jump right now wouldn’t be the wisest thing to do. But then I figure I’m suppose to take risks and things at this point of my life, right? And then there is the whole roommate thing. I mean - I LOVE my potential roommate. She was my boss at one time and she is an absolute sweetheart. But then she doesn’t know about what I do either and do I really need to be in another situation where I’m hiding behind my “webdesign” business? And then there is the fact that I really don’t think my parents would go for me moving out. But I really want to. And then there is the matter about the puppy. I really want a puppy. But I know I can’t possibly afford a puppy, apartment, and my car. And then there is school, too. Everything points to staying put for another year or so except for my heart. And my heart tells me to move on out. I mean - I am SO there!!!

I could decorate my room my very own room and have a life outside of my families life - and I would still see them of course - but not EVERY minute - not that I do now - but it gets to feeling like that sometimes. And maybe I could have the puppy there, too - except my family really wants a puppy too and I think they were counting on being with me and the puppy for a bit of time. But then they could get their own puppy, too, right?

I’m fairly sure that this leap into adult hood is not going to happen for me for some time. I’m certain of it. But I would really like to be thrust into that world for a minute just to see how it feels on that side of the fence - in the deep end of the pool - on the grown up table - in that neck of the woods. I’d like to be sitting in a living room with my friend from work - and sit and talk to her about all the silly things that went on at school and plan little dinner parties together and things like that. I’d like to go shopping for a bedroom set - and sit on the balcony during warm summer nites like tonight and know that 500 dollars of the space was mine. I’d really like that.

Soon. But soon isn’t now. Cuz I’m responsible and I know my limitations - even when it sucks to be faced with the truth of the situation.

It was a nice few paragraphs while it lasted, though… wasn’t it?

College summer schedules are limited. I would have preferred to take a creative writing course during the summer - or even something a bit more light - but among the courses offered - POLI SCI called my name the loudest. The college - which is very small and sits ontop of what has to be the hottest hillside in southern California fills to the point of sliding off of that hot hill come summer time. I suppose a lot of the older college students come home from break and (gasp) take a few classes before their semester begins in the fall. For this reason, my Dr. Poli Prof, adores summer sessions. Summer students, he cooed, are more serious - and often times a tad more intelligent than students who attend during regular semesters. I glanced around and wondered if this class just might be the one to prevent his HYPOTHESIS from every becoming an actual THEORY. Or did I get those two terms reversed? Science, along with math, has never been my strong point. Surprise Surprise.

But anyway, I glanced around the classroom and saw a few students in the back with ipods on, sipping their blended chai teas - oblivious to the fact that they were in class and that they might just need to, I don’t know, write a few notes every now and again. Across from me sat a boy that was so tall, his legs practically reached the desk top of the cute brown skinned girl directly in front of him. And then there was a girl way across the other side of the room that looked like a boy. She looked so much like a boy, in fact, that she could have really been a boy. Ya know - I don’t remember seeing any breasts on that boy. Maybe she really is a he. But due to her rather feminine sounding voice I’ll surmise she is a girl. She had on a baseball cap and wore the baggiest jeans I’ve ever seen…on a girl. She made comments to every single solitary thing the professor spoke about. Relevant or not, it didn’t seem to matter to her. A few students just gave up any pretense whatsoever and were sleeping soundly. And then there was me - amidst about 10 other students who sat oh so obediently at our desks with pencils posed, alert and ready to jot down anything that seemed important.

My professor handed out a stack of papers with assignments, required reading lists, and other things that were about as thick as the book for the class. And despite all of these things (his rather faulty premise of summer students, and obsession for hand outs) I quickly realized that I loved him. For under all of the required readings and assignments and threats to confiscate our cell phones if we couldn’t turn them off prior to entering his classroom was the seal of approval. My professor was a writer…a writer of hundreds of articles and at least 50 books. Sure, the books were about a subject that had the potential of putting me to sleep, but they were still BOOKS.

So the other day during class I paid special attention to my Dr. Prof Writer Extraordinaire. I wondered if he wrote from a mac or pc or a electric typewriter or a manual. I wondered how many other books he had sitting in his brain waiting to be written and if he really wrote as many letters to the editor as he … skip that. He does write letters to the editors and congressmen/women and anyone else who requires one. He seems to be about 60 or so - and when he lectures he always looks directly at me and somehow - even though government was never my favorite subject (dang - do I have ANY other favorite subjects other than English!!?? lol!) - to answer correctly. Somehow I knew what Article I, II, and III were about - and also managed to discuss at great length the different philosophers and writers responsible for the backbone of the constitution. By the time class ended today I had, in fact, several fantasies wrapped around my teacher. Stories like him bending me over one of the little desks after class and reciting the entire preamble to the constitution while he fucked me silly - or convincing me that giving him oral sex while studying the ammendments would make them “stick” better.

It’s going to be an interesting summer at college.

I started off my morning yesterday with the long call from my foot/butt friend. That doesn’t sound quite right - but I’m sure “he” knows what I’m referring to. And I promise I will send the pictures of the butt you so desperately need to see, hon. This afternoon when I got back from class guess who was waiting for me. (!!!) Yup - my new friend 2 n’s. And remember that 2 n’s happens to know a bit about this writing thing, too. I won’t disclose too much… but he knows a little somethin’ about a little somethin’. (wink). Keeping in mind that writers make me horny - we had a great time together. Laughed and drank in all the little details of a kinky fantasy - and even made peace with the little “one minute remaining” lady in the process. Thanks to the two of you for the great long calls (that would be 2 n’s and foot/butt - not 2 n’s and the 2 minute remaining lady!) - and also a great big thanks to Chris who found me up this morning and thought to give me a ring (and cum) before leaving for work. I was a bit worried that with my school schedule this summer and added hours at the gym that I wouldn’t have as much time to play on the phone. Perhaps all that worrying was a waste of energy, hmm?

Just a heads up for this weekend:

I will be out this evening. I have work and then I need to handle a birthday. Haven’t quite decided if I will be part of the present or the cake and icecream that follows. I have to wake up at about this same time tomorrow (Saturday AM) to go to work at the gym - and will be returning in the afternoon. I’ll be going to bed. Maybe for the first time since Thursday Evening. We’ll see. But I will log on late late tonight (Saturday morning) if time allows - Late Late Saturday Evening (cuz I’ll be sleeping earlier, remember?) and then I’ll be available Sunday Evening like usual… If there are times where you believe I am conscious shoot me an email and if I’m around I can log on for ya - but I’m not going to promise anything - fair?

So in summary: Friday: Off for the remainder of the night more than likely Sat: 10:00PM (pst) or later until I pass out… probably sometime around 4:00AM Sunday Morning. Sunday Afternoon - off and on … Monday early early morning: 12:00AM (that’s midnight Saturday PST…) till about 4:00AM…give or take an hour. *wink*

Smoochies on top of smoochies!

oh - and one last thing… thanks to my very bestest friend in the whole wide enormous world - Tashia - for fixing my wordpress for me yesterday. I had no idea what had happened - and she fixed it with in 5 minutes. She’s a brain. And thanks prematurely for the fantastic redesign you’re going to do for me on the blog and my listings! I can’t wait!!!

Today was a very busy day. It started promptly at 8:00 - wait - 8:15 - no, that’s not quite right either. Um… my day started promptly at 9:00am. For those of you who know me (and by “know” I mean - those of you who call me til all hours of the early early morning) you can pick yourselves off of the floor now. I normally do go to bed around 9:00AM - but today was a very special day. I decided to take the plunge and take my tests for placement at school. *sigh*

Placement tests go a little something like this: You walk in with your student id and student id number - a kind gentleman resembling the dad from Fresh Prince Of Bel Air leads you to your jail cell - I mean - cubicle - where he logs you in and tells you you have all the time you need because the tests are not timed. You sit and stare at a computer screen that spits out these complex sentences and asks you if they are correct or if there is perhaps a better sentence that sums up what the “author” intends - or IMPLIES. After a few of these heart wrenching exercises - the computer digs deep and pulls out from his tight, constipated ass a paragraph and asks you to “sum it up nicely” - according to what you THINK the author is trying to imply/state. 60 - count then six - zero - of these puppies and you feel like you really have no command of the english language at all. After you’ve cried silent tears all over the gateway computer’s keyboard a new screen appears informing you that now you’ll need to take the MATH placement tests. Fractions, percentages, and algebra equations OH F’IN MY! I thought I would d-i-e. At first I really tried hard. Seriously tried hard. I worked out the little problems on the pieces of scratch paper provided for me. I considered writing a poem or two to pass the time - since the tests weren’t timed - but realized that I had to answer the questions from hell in order to be released from my prison cell the college called cubicles. I thought about maybe post poning my doom. I could take several classes with out ever touching math, I reasoned, but something inside of me called insanity drove me on. Question after Question after equation after what percentage of rain that drops from onto my grandmother’s porch actually lands on her petunia plants. Finally the test was over. 3 hours later. And I think 2 of those hours were me praying to God to strike me dead. I’m NOT being dramatic. I stood up from my chair and walked slowly to the man who would tell me my fate. I had heard him offering up compliments to many of the girls who had tested before me. Telling them stuff like how wonderful they were in Math and how surprised he was because girls usually don’t do so well in Math. I knew as I inched my way slowly to his desk that he would be relieved by my test scores, for my test scores affirmed his stereotypes of women sucking royally in math. Taking out a pen he circled the very first class on the top of the English pyramid. “Very good, young lady” He remarked. “You tested very high in English - you can go on and take Composition whenever you are ready.” Thank God, I thought to myself, being that my MAJOR was English and all. Turning the sheet over he circled the bottom class and looked up at me with a twinkle in his eye. “Not so good at math, I see.” No shit, sherlock. “You need to take these classes before you can take a class that will be for credit towards your major.” I nodded and reached for the paper. “I’m just glad it is over.” I mumbled, and my complaint was rewarded by a heavy laugh.

Summary? I spent 3 hours at a computer in order for the college to tell me what I already knew: I’m quite comfortable in English, and quite RETARDED in Math.

After all of that, I realized that I needed to run some errands, go to the bank so that my checks wouldn’t bounce since my balance is awful. When I filled out the slip for my deposit the teller informed me that I had actually deposited more than I had written down.

Summary? I’m quite comfortable in English, and quite RETARDED in Math.

Heading home, I quickly shoveled in some lunch - sat down and watched a bit of a movie - and then realized that if I didn’t move quick I would be late for my other job. Apparently the clock said 2:45pm - and I was moving like it said 1:45pm (work started at 3:00PM).

Summary? I’m quite comfortable… yeah - you guessed it.

So here I am - 12:10AM - Thursday, technically - with an exercise to do on Checks & Balances for my Government class. I know that technically checks and balances have nothing to do with math - and yet, I’ve managed to postpone it much like I did my placement tests.

I’m logged in. And I’ve never really begged before - but I’m about to start now.

Please - for the love of God and all that is good and holy in this world, call me and save me from my homework. I won’t ask you to help me with my homework. I won’t even ask you what percentage of time you’re willing to spend with me. I won’t measure, summarize, analyze or further access you in any way. I will jump into your lap like a happy little puppy - pleased for the break you’ve offered me.

Please.

With cherries on the top.

I’m disgusted. Truly disgusted. I feel as though I’m going to be held hostage by the Heiress In Jail update until that girl is let out of jail. I don’t think there has been so much press about something so incredibly vapid and useless since the press frenzy around Sanjaya or whatever his name was on American Idol. I was counting down the days till he was out of there - and I find myself doing the same with this Ms. Paris, too.

It has me thinking.

Is this every man’s fantasy?

Is this like some showtime television show that comes on about 1:00AM when all the little kids are in their pj’s with feet - and their parents are downstairs - in striped jail suits - watching the latest soft porn movie titled “Her time behind bars” - acting along with the somewhat predictable but no less appealing plot?

What is it about women in jail that makes a man’s penis stand to attention - and is this somehow to blame for the press frenzy around Ms. Hilton’s time there?

It’s not often that I listen to talk radio - but since my unfortunate event where my ipod and fm transmitor thing a ma jig was taken from me so violently (sob) - I have been listening to quite a bit of radio while I’m riding along in my car- and since the music played on regular stations no longer appeals to me - I change the station rapidly to talk radio. Everyone is talking about Paris - and they have their little spin on it - so as not to appear too… I don’t know … typical maybe. A show the other day almost caused me to get into an accident. A blonde called who sounded like a twin of Minnie Mouse - and described herself as being a DD - and small - like five feet and nothing small. She said that her boyfriend was in his fancy smancy car and had gotten pulled over by the police. She told the host of the show that she had never been so miserable in all her life and that she felt really bad for Paris and all that she would probably have to live thru while in jail. “They were calling me Princess” this stupid bitch cried. “It was because of my boyfriend - and I had a warrant because I didn’t show up for a court date - although I did pay the ticket - but they were so mean to me (hiccup) that…(gasp)…I just wanted to die! And the men there were so dirty - they were so (sniff sniff) filthy that I didn’t want to even sssssssit dowwwwwwn!”

I silently begged her to stop.

The hosts had hit their jackpot and went in for the kill.

“So how big are your tits?” They asked with what can only be described as a sinister laugh.

“What does that have to do with anything.” The blonde with big tits gulped. Good for you, I thought. Hang on to what little bit of decency you have left. Don’t answer the … “They are 34DD’s. I mean they are really big - but… what does that have to do with anything.”

“So are your nipples really sensitive?” The other DJ asked - dead pan.

“Um…” (Don’t do it stupid girl… don’tttttt) “Well - yeah - as a matter of fact they are … but again - this doesn’t have anything to do with my story.”

Oh yes it does!!! And for the next 15 minutes these two djs proceeded to show her exactly how relevant her jug size was to … well… to life. Specifically their fantasy about little princesses in jail - with big tits (or little ones - doesn’t matter) who find themselves in a jail cell - turning tricks with the guards for protection - or licking their cell mates pussy for a cigarette. Because that is what this is all about, isn’t it? Our (particularily) men’s fascination with women (princesses) behind bars - in dirty and animalistic places - where desperation can turn any good girl into a certifiable whore. Where bars are just backdrops to sinful fantasies - and where a key can unlock the possiblity of getting a girl to do just about anything for a hot shower and a phone call.

I understand. I have had my little fantasies, too - and well - I still like the whole gay cop bad inmate gay porn story. Never gets old. However, I don’t think I would be glued to the set - (or my Hitachi wand) if Denzel got put in jail today. I don’t even think I would be glued to the set if Richard Simmons was placed in jail - or any of the guys on Bravo Television’s “Work Out” - who have to be gay. I think. I don’t even think one of my callers - with muscles all lathered up in babyoil the way he likes - would get me to be obsessed about his time behind bars. How much is a photo of Paris in jail going for these days? And how many times has the mug shot of her been downloaded and downloaded ON these past … 12 or so hours?

Maybe I should put up a CeCe in jail listing. I can pretend to call you up collect - you accept the charges of course - and then I can tell you about my shower with the girls the other day. Or you can be the warden - and I can tell you to go fuck yourself if you expect me to be in the general public with the rest of the dirty filthy hos that are in here. You can push me down on my knees behind your desk - handcuff my hands behind my back to the legs of the desk behind me - and force your cock down my throat. Or - I don’t know - you can pretend that I’m in solitary confinement - and instead of slipping me a plate of hot slop thru the little slot in the door - you can put your cock thru the opening instead and insist that I suck that for lunch.

Seriously - if no one takes me up on my offer - I am going to be even more confused about the intense obsession with this chick’s jail sentence. If what I’m thinking is correct - right now at this moment - thousands of niteflirt girls are making up profiles about their time behind bars - and thousand more guys are lining up to call them and hear all about it.

I recently completed the incredible task of emailing 30 more men and sending pictures for each 15 minutes they were on with me. I really should learn to do this at the time that it happens - but that would be responsible of me - and we all know how procrastination is and will always be my middle name. Thanks again for all the great calls - and for being so patient with your presents! Enjoy them, boys. Remember - the promotion goes on until June 15th. I don’t know if I will continue it after that - you’ll all have to let me know if it’s a good idea or not. Of the 30 or so pics that I send out - maybe 5 men will actually write me back to let me know that they got them and enjoy them. Take your hands off your penis’ for a sec and send me a little note on nf or gmail (celinawetdreams) and let me know if you’re even excited by this offer. If it’s worth it to ya all - I’d like to continue doing it for another month. We’ll see, though.

I was going to write about a few of my favorite things (callers) but my hand is starting to cramp up - and truth be told - I’ve been extremely horny. I think I turned myself on with all this prison talk and I may just have to do something about that. I also have to work this evening *ho hum* which means I need to start saving up some energy so I can work out.

Remind me someone to talk about the cancer walk I participated in - and how drunk and horny I got while walking - and how we almost were asked to leave by the coordinators of the event. It isn’t as good as a prison type story - but it comes close in many ways!

*Smoochies*