This little fellow is from Africa and is known as the Naked Mole-Rat.   So if you’re having a bad day and feeling sorry for yourself, remember this:  You might think you’ve got it pretty rough.   But how would you like to go through life looking like a penis with buck teeth?   

Thanks to my sister Bethany and her business associates who circulate these lovely emails, which sis is so very kind (and maybe even deliriously eager) to forward to me.

***

And also via email, this from a very married guy friend of mine:

INSTALLING A HUSBAND

xo, Angela

… look busy.  (version .01)

… and boy is He pissed.  (version .02)

Yup … we parochial types are in the middle of the Lenten season, supposedly doing some type of dietary acrobatics while waiting for the Big Cheese to make His annual appearance.  For some weirdly odd reason we like to kill him every year and then bring him back.  I guess we’re et. al what the BDSM community would call "switches" — crucifying the fuck out of ourselves and our heroes at every opportunity.  Thank goodness for safe words.  Kyrie eleison; Christe eleison; Kyrie eleison.

Now if you’re the type who needs a Butterwick pattern to live by, you just won’t ever get why I do not think all of the above (and the joke below) is even slightly incongruent with the fact of my heart-felt belief (more of a "knowing") that God does indeed exist.  

I just don’t get all the fuss and all the rules.  I mean, after all, rosaries have many other uses besides rote prayer and confessionals are downright handy-dandy when you wanna grab a nun on the run and get down and dirty.  In fact, I recently participated in an extremely blasphemous Sister Angela and Father Bill role-play which was simply scrumptious.  

And I do have a smiley face rosary.

I also happen to have a smiley face magnet that says:  My God is an awesome God.

And he is.  So there.

Which is my long way of getting around to sharing a Lenten joke, courtesy of my sister, Bethany, via her inter-office email (she works so hard!):

Each Friday night after work, Boudreaux would fire up his outdoor grill and cook a venison steak. The problem was that all of Boudreaux’s neighbors were Catholic.  And since it was Lent, they were forbidden from eating meat on Friday. But the delicious aroma from the grilled venison steaks was causing such a problem for the Catholic faithful that they finally talked to their priest.

The Priest came to visit Boudreaux and suggested that he become a Catholic.  After several classes and much study, Boudreaux attended Mass and the priest, sprinkling holy water over him, intoned, "You were born a Baptist, and raised a Baptist, but now you are a Catholic."

There stood Boudreaux, clutching a small bottle of holy water which he was carefully sprinkled over the grilling meat while chanting: "You wuz born a deer, you wuz raised a deer, but now you is a catfish."

As Mistress V would say:  Sweevil-icious!

Oh, and did you know that Jesus Loves Porn?

xo, Angela

For those of you who didn’t notice or could care less, this blog, Zen Fetish, was down for around three days — give or take a few hours — this past week, which caused quite a kerfuffle with my regular and devoted ones.   Nothing to worry about; I was just moving to a new server and I wasn’t as smart as I thought I was, so it didn’t go as smoothly nor as quickly as I’d planned.  So the boo boo is all better now (though your still welcome to kiss it) and we are back to our irregularly scheduled blogging. 

It’s Saturday night as I write this.  The kink-0-phone is on and I’m taking calls, writing here in between.  Tease and Denial is the kink du jeur  this evening it seems.  And I am loving it.  Nothing like making a guy beg and plead and moan and groan.   

A couple of new callers have shown up.   One hung up when he got the big O … after telling me how absolutely wonderful and fabulous and sexy and hot and creative I was.  Hmmph!  Another just wanted to serve with low-key public training.  It was sooo much fun and he was a perfect gentleman, saying goodbye and thank you before disappearing.  I sent him five free minutes for his next call.  He earned my generosity.  As did a new cross-dressing caller who was such a bad boy-girl for me!  

Yesterday I bought a new car, the process (car salespeople are brutal fucks) swallowing up my entire day — which ended with me driving home in my simply divine PT Cruiser in the middle of a serious snow storm.  I didn’t walk into my door until well after 10 pm.  And after a hot bath I went straight to bed; I was drained.  So I wasn’t around for calls, but should be the rest of this week. 

While I’m thinking about it, a heads up:  PQS sent me a new installment of Lingerie on the Razor Wire, which I will most likely  be publishing in the next few days.  As usual, his writing is superb and outrageous and edgy and downright hillarious.  So all you fans:  stay tuned. 

I am in the middle of writing a piece for my column at Sex Kitten, which is tentatively called SCUNTS (I’ll let you know when it’s published), based upon my theory/postulation that Spammers are Scunts!  On reason I’ve been moved to rant and moan about these VILEST of Internet Predators is that more and more are sneaking through spam filters by altering the spelling of words just enough that the filters can’t detect nor stop them; yet leaving enough of the correct spelling in place so that the receiver gets the point.  Three examples:  1) Outdoor dog-f: uc-king  2) Perefct nautral 36d szied tiits  3) Yum’my laitna fucekd and gets jzized.  Now if the dumb fucks could just figure out how to send their slop to someone who cares.   

And last but certainly not least, this from my sister, Bethany: 

A woman and a man are involved in a car accident on a snowy, cold Monday morning; it’s a bad one. Both of their cars are totally demolished but amazingly neither of them are hurt. God works in mysterious ways.

Flattered, the man replies, "Oh yes, I agree with you completely; this must be a sign from God! But you’re still at fault. Women shouldn’t be allowed to drive!"

The woman continues, "And look at this, here’s another miracle.  My car is completely demolished but this bottle of wine didn’t break. Surely God wants us to drink this wine and celebrate our good fortune."

Then she hands the bottle to the man. The man nods his head in agreement, opens it and drinks half the bottle and then hands it back to the woman.  The woman takes the bottle and immediately puts the cap back on, and hands It back to the man.

The man asks, "Aren’t you having any?"

MORAL OF THE STORY:  Women are clever, evil bitches!

xo, Angela

Bethany sent the following to me the other day, and I was just simply fascinated.  My, oh my, what a different world it was just one hundred years ago.  It gets one thinking about metaphysical philosophy and the nature of life and what it all means.

Maybe all we can do is think and, therefore be.  And that's all we've really got to go on?  

Every generation cannot possibly imagine how different the world will be for the next generation.  I mean, do you think the lady over there ever imagined her picture would show up on the internet in blog written by a girl who talked dirty on the phone for a living?  Or that nudity and sex would be pretty much out in the open, shared generously via both adult and mainstream venues?

100 Years Ago:  Statistics for the Year 1907 

1. The average life expectancy in the U.S. was only 47 years old.
2. Only 14 percent of the homes in the U.S. had a bathtub. (I would simply die.)
3. Only 8 percent of the homes had a telephone.  (No phone sex?)
4. A three-minute call from Denver to New York City cost eleven dollars.  (Who could afford phone sex?)
5. There were only 8,000 cars in the U.S. and only 144 miles of paved roads.
6. The maximum speed limit in most cities was 10 mph.
7. Alabama, Mississippi, Iowa, and Tennessee were each more heavily populated than California.
8. With a mere 1.4 million people, California was only the 21^st most populous state in the Union.
9. The tallest structure in the world was the Eiffel Tower.
10. The average wage in the U.S. Was 22 Cents per hour.
11. The average U.S. Worker made between $200 and $400  per year.
12. A competent accountant could expect to earn $2000 per year, a dentist dentist made $2,500 per year, a veterinarian $1,500 per year, and a mechanical engineer about $5,000 per year.
13. More than 95 percent of all births in the U.S. Took place at HOME.
14. Nineteen percent of all U.S. Doctors had NO COLLEGE EDUCATION.  Instead, they attended so-called medical schools, many of which were condemned in the press AND the government as "substandard."
15. Sugar cost four cents a pound.
16. Eggs were fourteen cents a dozen.
17. Coffee was fifteen cents a pound.
18. Most women only washed their hair once a month and they used Borax or egg yolks for shampoo.  (OMFG!  I HAVE to wash my hair every day.  Borax?  WTF?)
19. Canada passed a law that prohibited poor people from entering their country for any reason.
20. Five leading leading causes of death in the U. S. were: 1. Pneumonia 2. Tuberculosis 3. Diarrhea 4. Heart Disease 5. Stroke.  (Diarrhea?)
21. The American flag  had 45 stars. Arizona, Oklahoma, New Mexico, Hawaii, and Alaska had not yet been admitted to the Union.
22. The population of Las Vegas, Nevada , was only 30.
23. Crossword puzzles, canned beer, and ice tea had not been invented yet. (No crossword puzzles?  Did you hear that PQS and Puzzler?)
24. There was no Mother's Day or Father's Day.
25. Two out of of every 10 U.S. Adults couldn't read or write. 
26. Only 6 percent of all Americans had graduated from high school.
27. Marijuana, heroin, and morphine were all available over the counter at the local corner drugstores.  (God bless the good old days.)
28. Back then, pharmacists said, "Heroin clears the complexion, gives buoyancy to the mind, regulates the stomach and bowels, and is, in fact, a perfect guardian of health."
29. There were about 230 reported murders in the entire U.S.A.

So we've traded the chance of dying of diarrhea for the chance of death by murder.  Hmmm.  I guess there is always good and bad and everything in between as the world moves on.  Coffee was cheap, drugs were easily attainable and everybody was driving at a speed limit that I pretty much would like to see reinstated.  But if I couldn't bath or wash may hair everyday, well, ewww!  That is just downright unacceptable.  

So I figure God put me into just what century was best for me.  But I can't help but be curious about what the world will be like 100 years from now.

xo, Angela 

My understanding is that this cock cookbook doesn't really exist.  Which is a shame, as I'd love to give it as a gift to more than a few of my friends and relatives.  First on the list would be Bethany (my sister–remember?) who actually sent me these scans or whatever they are.  I also have quite a few gay friends who would think it was a real hoot.  

I'd probably go ahead and get myself one too.  Hey!  Just for the recipes; I mean that!  I'm the girl who tried to boil eggs two days in a row and both times actually blew up the eggs.  (Which, while I'm at it, thank you to a certain special someone who bought me the Kirkland cookware set.  It's saved my butt time and again.  If you're the type who burns water when you set it to boil, I highly recommend it.  Everything and anything cleans up in a jiff–take it from she who has burned everything from said mentioned eggs to pasta to potatoes to hot dogs to even water).   

The fellow above is Christian.  No–it's not his religious affiliation, it's his name.  Although if he stopped by to teach me how to cook, I might just get religion.  Praise the Lord!  Now let's get down to some shaking and baking.

Just so you know, I can cook when I have dinner guests.  Among my more famous dishes:  German Potato Salad, Blue Cheese Chicken, Greek Salad, Potato Soup, Home Made Sliced Tomato Pizza, Italian Vegetable Soup, Irish Pie, Hash Brown Casserole, Lentil Soup, Green Onion and Pasta Toss, Chili, and a Pot Roast that is so good it will make you fall to your knees and cry. 

I also make a Peanut Butter Pie that tastes like a chilled, creamy Reece Cup.  I've been told that each bite is like having an orgasm in your mouth.

Wanna come to dinner?

xo, Angela