With his permission, I’m sharing with you a letter I received from my "Alpha Male/SlaveBoy," whom we shall call "N."   I don’t do this sharing of personal info/exchanges often.  But his words touched me deeply and caused me to pause in gratitude and wonder, that I should be so lucky to dominate this most exquisite gentleman.

What am I grateful for …

Love,
N.
xox

And to my dearest and treasured N: 

I am honored to be in your prayers and need every single one of them. 

Yes, I am both your Mistress and your friend.   And it is because of this duality, that we are able to transcend the ordinary.  This is what makes it all that we both need it to be.  I delight in knowing you and in making you mine in our own special way. 

You are as much a part of this as I am.  Because you understand the art of submission and appreciate the subtle necessities that make a relationship like this work — the give and take, the when and how, the humility and the celebration — what we are together is uniquely and only ours. 

Because of who you are and the way you’ve opened your most secret self to me, the adventure of dominating you is one to which I always look forward.    And the adventure of knowing you, every facet of you in all your life roles, is a gift to me.  But also to both of us.

xo, Angela

She’s kicking ass and taking names.  Well, not really, not the "taking names" part, because she doesn’t really care about you or your name too much.  She goes by the name of Angel, although she wants certain loser boys (each and every one of you, so quit hiding behind you’re mama’s skirt) to know that she is certainly NOT YOUR ANGEL!  And she’s got your number.  Again, not really.  But you can have hers: 

1 – 800 – 863 – 5478  ext. 02743336.

Cute, sassy and downright cruel (when the occasion requires such), Ms. Angel is a personal friend of mine, and I can tell you straight up that this little lady does not suffer fools gladly.  She has a sixth sense when it comes to men.  And if you’re a weak pussy-boy thinking your frail, manly facade will keep you safe?  Well, think again, because, quite frankly, your ass, your heart, and even your money will be Angel’s in no time.   That is if you can even muster up enough testosterone to give Angel a call.

Angel happens to like to play games with boy-toys.  And she has two very special games — one for up-skirt fetishists and one for foot fetishists — which you just might want to play ASAP, before you stick you neck out and actually call.  Look at it this way:  the gesture might melt her cold heart just a smidgen, so that maybe she won’t be the Sugar Coated Cunt she usually is.   You can find both games here:  Angel @ NiteFlirt

If you finally do get up the nerve to call Angel, do let me know.  I want all the grisly details.  There will be blood!  So make sure you’ve got some bandages handy.

xo, Angela

[youtube:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=klWluYoa0_8&autoplay=0 300 375]

Cajun Math Test

A Cajun man wanted a job, but the foreman wouldn’t hire him until he passed a little math test.  

Here is your first question, the foreman said, "without using numbers, represent the number 9."  "Without numbers," the Cajun says, "Dat is easy." And proceeds to draw three trees.

"What’s this?" the boss asks. 

"Ave you got no brain?  Tree and tree and tree make nine," says the Cajun.

"Fair enough," says the boss.? "Here’s your second question. Use the same rules, but this time the number is 99."

The Cajun stares into space for a while, then picks up the picture that he has just drawn and makes a smudge on each tree.   "Ere you go."

The boss scratches his head and says, "How on earth do you get that to represent 99?"

"Each of da trees is dirty now.? So, it’s dirty tree, and dirty tree, and dirty tree. Dat is 99."

The boss is getting worried that he’s going to actually have to hire this Cajun, so he says, "All right, last question. Same rules again, but represent the number 100."

The Cajun stares into space some more, then he picks up the picture again and makes a little mark at the base of each tree and says, "Ere you go.? One hundred." 

The boss looks at the attempt.  "You must be nuts if you think that represents a hundred!"

The Cajun leans forward and points to the marks at the base of each tree and says, "A little dog come along and crap by each tree. So now you got dirty tree and a turd, dirty tree and a turd, and dirty tree and a turd, which makes one hundred."

"So, when I start?" 

Sick Leave

Redhead Renee urgently needed a mini-vacation, but knew her boss would not allow her to just take time off.  So she hung upside-down on the ceiling and made funny noises. Her co-worker, Blonde Brenda, asked her what she was doing.  Redhead Renee replied that she was just being a light bulb.

A few minutes later the Boss came into the office and asked, "what are you doing?"

"I’m a light bulb," Readhead Renee answered.

"You are clearly stressed out, the boss said.  "Go home and recuperate for a couple days."

"Yes, sir," Redhead Renee gleefully responded, jumping down from the ceiling and walking towards the office door. 

With that, Blonde Brenda pushed out from her desk, stood up, grabbed her purse, and turned to follow Redhead Renee.

"Hey," said the boss, "just where in the hell do you think you are going?"

"I’m going home, too," retorted Blond Brenda, " I can’t work in the dark!" 

Perverse Irony

Why do we press harder on a remote control when we know the batteries are going dead?

Why do banks charge a fee on ‘insufficient funds’ when they know there is not enough money?

Why does someone believe you when you say there are four billion stars, but check when you say the paint is wet?

Why do they use sterilized needles for death by lethal injection?

Why doesn’t Tarzan have a beard?

Why does Superman stop bullets with his chest, but ducks when you throw a revolver at him?

Why do Kamikaze pilots wear helmets?

Whose idea was it to put an ‘S’ in the word ‘lisp’?

If people evolved from apes, why are there still apes?

Why is it that no matter what color bubble bath you use the bubbles are always white?

Is there ever a day that mattresses are not on sale?

Why do people constantly return to the refrigerator with hopes that something new to eat will have materialized?

Why do people keep running over a string a dozen times with their vacuum cleaner, then reach down, pick it up, examine it, then put it down to give the vacuum one more chance?

Why is it that no plastic bag will open from the end on your first try?

How do those dead bugs get into those enclosed light fixtures?

When we are in the supermarket and someone rams our ankle with a shopping cart then apologizes for doing so, why do we say, ‘It’s all right?’ Well, it isn’t all right, so why don’t we say, ‘That really hurt, why don’t you watch where you’re going?’

Why is it that whenever you attempt to catch something that’s falling off the table you always manage to knock something else over?

In winter why do we try to keep the house as warm as it was in summer when we complained about the heat?

How come you never hear father-in-law jokes?

The statistics on sanity is that one out of every four persons is suffering from some sort of mental illness. Think of your three best friends — if they’re okay, then it’s you.

Of course you’re familiar enough now with my sister’s emails.   Bethany sends me a lot of raunchy stuff (like the joke below), which tickles me to no end, since she might be considered the "good sister" of the two of us.  Most of the emails she forwards have been circulated amongst the other nine-to-fivers with whom she shares her "American Dream" career.  Today she surprised me with this lovely picture, which just blew my socks off. 

Which reminds me, I may be going on a retreat this weekend.  If it happens, I will be thinking spiritual thoughts rather than speaking dirty words.  Which would be nice for a change.    I will let you know what’s up, when I know myself.

And now, what you really want, Bethany’s dirty joke:

A man walks into his bedroom with a sheep under his arm and says: "Darling,this is the pig I have sex with when you have a headache."

The man says: "I think you’ll find I wasn’t talking to you."

Pretty funny, huh?  A little bit politically incorrect, perhaps.  But as my ribald friend, Laurie, always says:  Don’t get hard, Peter.  I was only playing with you! 

*wink*

And if you’re blowing time on the Net, please do check out FREE RICE.  I simply love the game (you may be familiar with a Reader’s Digest version which is much harder and downright tricky),  And just  how cool is it to know that every time you get a word correct twenty grains of rice go to feed the hungry?

xo, Angela