You’re Beautiful

by Simon Armitage

You’re beautiful because you’re classically trained.
I’m ugly because I associate piano wire with strangulation.

You’re beautiful because you stop to read the cards in
newsagents’ windows about lost cats and missing dogs.
I’m ugly because of what I did to that jellyfish with a lolly
stick and a big stone.

You’re beautiful because for you, politeness is instinctive, not
a marketing campaign.
I’m ugly because desperation is impossible to hide.

Ugly like he is,
Beautiful like hers,
Beautiful like Venus,
Ugly like his,
Beautiful like she is,
Ugly like Mars.

You’re beautiful because you believe in coincidence and the
power of thought.
I’m ugly because I proved God to be a mathematical
impossibility.

You’re beautiful because you prefer home-made soup to the
packet stuff.
I’m ugly because once, at a dinner party, I defended the
aristocracy and wasn’t even drunk.

You’re beautiful because you can’t work the remote control.
I’m ugly because of satellite television and twenty-four-hour
rolling news.

Ugly like he is,
Beautiful like hers,
Beautiful like Venus,
Ugly like his,
Beautiful like she is,
Ugly like Mars.

You’re beautiful because you cry at weddings as well as
funerals.
I’m ugly because I think of children as another species from
a different world.

You’re beautiful because you look great in any colour
including red.
I’m ugly because I think shopping is strictly for the
acquisition of material goods.

You’re beautiful because when you were born, undiscovered
planets lined up to peep over the rim of your cradle and lay
gifts of gravity and light at your miniature feet.
I’m ugly for saying "love at first sight" is another form of
mistaken identity, and that the most human of all responses
is to gloat.

Ugly like he is,
Beautiful like hers,
Beautiful like Venus,
Ugly like his,
Beautiful like she is,
Ugly like Mars.

You’re beautiful because you’ve never seen the inside of a
car-wash.
I’m ugly because I always ask for a receipt.

You’re beautiful for sending a box of shoes to the third
world.
I’m ugly because I remember the telephone numbers of
ex-girlfriends and the year Schubert was born.

You’re beautiful because you sponsored a parrot in a zoo.
I’m ugly because when I sigh it’s like the slow collapse of a
circus tent.

Ugly like he is,
Beautiful like hers,
Beautiful like Venus,
Ugly like his,
Beautiful like she is,
Ugly like Mars.

You’re beautiful because you can point at a man in a uniform
and laugh.
I’m ugly because I was a police informer in a previous life.

You’re beautiful because you drink a litre of water and eat
three pieces of fruit a day.
I’m ugly for taking the line that a meal without meat is a
beautiful woman with one eye.

You’re beautiful because you don’t see love as a competition
and you know how to lose.
I’m ugly because I kissed the FA Cup then held it up to the
crowd.

You’re beautiful because of a single buttercup in the top
buttonhole of your cardigan.
I’m ugly because I said the World’s Strongest Woman was a
muscleman in a dress.

You’re beautiful because you couldn’t live in a lighthouse.
I’m ugly for making hand-shadows in front of the giant bulb,
so when they look up, the captains of vessels in distress see
the ears of a rabbit, or the eye of a fox, or the legs of a
galloping black horse.

Ugly like he is,
Beautiful like hers,
Beautiful like Venus,
Ugly like his,
Beautiful like she is,
Ugly like Mars.

Ugly like he is,
Beautiful like hers,
Beautiful like Venus,
Ugly like his,
Beautiful like she is,
Ugly like Mars.

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I’ve been reading a lot of interesting poetry lately, in fact on a daily basis, because it’s Poetry Month and I’m on the Knopf -Doubleday mailing list for the daily email.  I’m still trying to figure out what the antiphonal repeating chorus is about, but still … it’s a great poem.   I can almost hear the man’s (husband’s?) whine in every verse as he  describes their differences.  Or he could just be a caller describing his relationship with his Phone Sex Princess/Goddess/Mistress.  Either way, it works.  It’s that Petrarchian thing again.

Do make a point to visit the poet’s website, where there is some interesting video.   Sir Gawain and the Green Knight anyone?

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Phone Sex Goddess of the Day

The divinely dangerous Miss Lauren of Lauren Rules just might be the woman who finally breaks you.  A voluptuous blonde who excels in training, using and abusing the male animal, Mistress Lauren is a force to be reckoned with.  If you’ve been seeking a powerful and confident Mistress — and feel you haven’t yet quite met your match — then you simply must call this intoxicating and hypnotic beauty.  While you still have possession of your own balls (because She WILL soon own them) visit LAUREN RULES.  And don’t forget THE BLOG, which will absolutely make you weak in the knees.

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Phone Sex Advice of the Day

Manners count.  It’s that simple and that important.  PSOs are not any different than the women you meet in your everyday life.  You might even have a female friend that is a PSO and you don’t even know it.  Would you want her to see you acting that way?  We won’t (unless you called an idiot PSO) judge you by your kink.  But we will judge you by your politesse or lack thereof.  It’s human nature; and we are, after all human.  Just like you.  Which is exactly the point.

xo, Angela

Nymphomanic Convention

A man boarded an airplane and took his seat. As he settled in, he glanced up and saw the most beautiful woman boarding the plane. He soon realized she was heading straight towards his seat. As fate would have it, she took the seat right beside his.

Eager to strike up a conversation he blurted out, "Business trip or pleasure?" She turned, smiled and said, "Business. I’m going to the Annual Nymphomaniacs of America Convention in Boston."

He swallowed hard. Here was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen sitting next to him, and she was going to a meeting of nymphomaniacs. Struggling to maintain his composure, he calmly asked, "What’s your business role at this convention?"

"Lecturer," she responded. "I use information that I have learned from my personal experiences to debunk some of the popular myths about sexuality."

"Really?" he said. "And what kind of myths are there?"

"Well," she explained, "one popular myth is that African-American men are the most well-endowed of all men, when in fact it is the Native American Indian who is most likely to possess that trait.  Another popular myth is that Frenchmen are the best lovers when actually it is men of Jewish descent who are the best.  I have also discovered that the lover with absolutely the best stamina is the Southern Redneck."

Suddenly the woman became a little uncomfortable and blushed. "I’m sorry," she said, "I shouldn’t really be discussing all of this with you. I don’t even know your name."

"Tonto," the man said, "Tonto Goldstein.  But my friends call me Bubba.

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I don’t remember who sent me that, but it sure is funny.  Was it you, Puzzler?  I’m thinking it was.  Or perhaps it was my sister, Bethany?  Thanks to whomever. 

And while I’m at it, this next few days are going to be/might be/could be pretty busy so look for me, but don’t expect/do hope for much.  Tomorrow (Monday) I should be working from noon-ish until midnight … but that could change depending on a few circumstances that might pop up.  I don’t think they will be a problem, but just in case — you’re forewarned.  Then Tuesday is a BIG morning with my very expensive and talented hairdresser for my much needed and beloved highlights.

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Phone Sex Quote of the Day

Even though I hadn’t a clue and was totally taken by surprise, I wasn’t angry or turned off in the least.  I just thought, "Well!  What do you know?"  — Mr. A. telling me about his reaction to finding out the "lady" he’d been seducing (I just thought she had a lot of bush) was a TS (transexual).  And he DID continue with the seduction.  

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Phone Sex Scunt (scum + cunt) of the Day

Sissy M, who really really pissed me off today.  Get a grip and learn to act like a man … even when you’re in panties.  There is no excuse for your behavior and you are totally not getting what the phone sex experience is about.  Because, guess what?  It’s the same as everything else in life:  you get what you put into it. But then again, I suspect you don’t put much into life, so … don’t call me.  I’ll call you.

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DEAR READERS:  I am sooo sorry for losing my cool and telling off Sissy M. right here in public.  I really, really, really try to ignore these guys (just block their calls and move on) and pay attention to the good guys who deserve my attention,  like Mr. A. (who is a stand-up kinkster).  BUT that idiot I interrupted our blogging adventure with his call only to hang up at one minute.  

And so … well … er … just except my apologies and keep adoring me.

xo, Angela

Blame it on the totally awesome Bitch Trainer I recently hired.  She is torturing me and I am loving it.  I told her that due to fairly regularly jogging my legs were more than fine, that I wanted to concentrate on upper body strength.  OOOOHHH … she so took me at my word.  Damn her!  God bless her!  I want to have lesbian sex with her.  I want to have her babies.  She’s my own personal non-sexual Dominatrix and I worship her.  She is whipping me into uber shape and I’m giving her lots of money to do it!  It’s the perfect relationship, because she won’t let me top from the bottom.  I have a habit of wanting to be always right, always in charge, always knowing what’s best … for me and for everybody else.

Which — while it works in my line of work, FemDom PhoneSex — it won’t get me to where I want to go with this training.  In this situation, I’m getting my ass kicked on a regular basis and I have to suck it up.  I leave the gym with throbbing shoulder blades, trembling thighs. aching breasts … and I thank her for my mysery and can’t wait to see her again.  

So all of that is keeping me … shall we say engaged?  Plus I am being honored at a volunteer dinner next week and I don’t have a thing to where.  Really, I don’t.  I need some new summer dress-up clothes — which means I’m busy shopping.  Concurrently, I am shopping for the perfect summer white purse.   Then there’s dinner and a show at the Performing Arts Center next month, a Leonard Cohen concert still a few months away, a lunch and movie I promised a friend, and I’ve already bought my tickets to see Wicked in early fall.

Of course I have the other life stuff that keeps us all spinning, like dealing with Comcast’s inadequate and rude Customer Service Department on what seems a constant basis.  I have my cable thru them, because the greedy bastards have made sure they’re the only game in town.  Plus I pay them for Nanette’s cable/phone/dsl, because she’s my good friend and she really just really needed someone to cut her a break.  And they are always screwing things up, like accidently turning her Phone off on Easter Sunday, then taking two 1/2  days to get it back on.  Or suddenly beginning to charge me for a sport tier on my cable bill and insisting I’d ordered it.  When anybody who knows me knows, that is something I would never, ever do in a zillion years.  But Comcast is always right and the customer is always wrong.  Go figure. 

And then there is this Phone Sex Business.  It’s my baby.  No CEOs, no Personal Assistants, no Comptrollers …. so this tax thing is one big fucking headache for me.  But it is now done and put to bed.  Amen.

Oh, and the Phone Sex Business — believe it or not, and I know this is going to shock you — requires of me that I actually take calls from shall we say …. sexual adventurers?  And I happen to have a group of loyal callers who expect me to show up and work some serious magic.  Even though I took off for Easter Sunday, this past weekend was practically non-stop calls.  In fact, any time I’ve been available lately, I’ve been kept very busy with callers.  Which — I’m certainly not complaining — is a very good thing.

What all of the above means is that I am a very busy girl.  But I’m here.  Just shoot me an email (angela @ zensmut DOT com) and I will — sometimes a little later than sooner, but always at some point — get back to you and we can go from there.  Or you could just call.  The link for phoning me is at the top of this page.  Regardless, my titties are still hurting.
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Phone Sex Quote of the Day: 

What you can do when you’re having phone sex is limited only to your imagination. Most people appear to feel that the more creative you get, the better the sex. You could be in any room, doing anything. If you have a cordless hands-free phone, your options multiply.  (ARTICLE)

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Financial Phone Sex Dom of the Day:

If you like a woman to control your cock by controlling your hard-earned cash, then you simply must visit Mistress Sherry Elizabeth’s website,  where you can see her absolutely FREE video in which she seduces, teases and hypnotizes you into financial submission.  Make no mistake about it … Sherry Elizabeth is a sizzling hot, beautiful woman.  She will weaken you, then wrap you around her little finger — another trinket for her collection.  You will want to call her, worship her, give her everything and anything she requests.  But your cock will be so hard you could use it to pound nails.  That’s a fair enough trade, I do believe.

xo, Angela