I love music. Music is like magic to me. It gets inside me and can fill me with a whole myriad of emotions depending on the song. Occasionally I’m listening to a song and it takes on a different meaning. It’s a beautiful day so I am jamming out to the Beach Boys while I write. I just replayed “God Only Knows”. I think that is another song that falls into “My subs mindset category”. It’s one of those songs that I want my sub to aspire to feel that way in regards to O/our relationship.
And no one gets to give The Beach Boys any shit. I would fuck Mike Love still today.
Showing posts with label A word on. Show all posts
Showing posts with label A word on. Show all posts
Monday, March 22, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Movie Recommendation: The Fourth Kind
Usually it’s only those who are fortunate enough to txt with me or be on my Netflix friends list (btw if you are on Netflix, be my friend!!!) that are lucky enough to get Lana’s Movie Reviews. But now you, my extended virtual family, get an installment.
I watched The Fourth Kind with my husband last night and to be perfectly honest it scared the fuck right out of me. And that very rarely happens. VERY. I love horror. In fact I dedicate the entire month of October as “Scary Movie Month”. In that month I will watch every horror flick regardless of budget that my husband brings home. I dig it. Scary movies are better than horror in my opinion though. If the movie messes with your mind ala The Sixth Sense, more the better. If it is a straight up hack slash flick, none the worse. I’ve seen every Friday the 13th, Nightmare on Elm Street, Halloween, Candyman, and all the other franchise flicks ever made. Those who know me know there is only one franchise I avoid like the plague. That is The Children of the Corn. Won’t touch those with a 10 foot pole.
See I have 2 fears. Both irrational, but what can you do? Anyway I am afraid of corn fields and aliens. Yes I said cornfields. Not corn itself so don’t try to be cute if we’re at a cookout. I love dead corn. But while it is live and in the field….Cringe…shudder. Now with corn fields come a fear of the Amish. Yes, the Amish. They scare me. I don’t know if in a past life I was a Mennonite girl captured for my wicked ways and held prisoner of some twisted “fundamental” Amish who spent years torturing me sexually, physically and mentally. In fact if that would explain several aspects of this lifetime, but I digress. The fact is, I saw The Children of the Corn when I was a bit too young and it scared my over active imagination. It took me 2 solid years of living amidst corn fields before I stopped hyperventilating while driving past one. I know you are laughing, but they terrify me.
So bear that in mind when I tell you that I would rather convert and go live with the Amish than to see a UFO. Aliens petrify me. Don’t get me wrong. Not the X Files or Men in Black type aliens. In fact representations of aliens don’t bug me at all. The only movie I have seen that scared me was Signs. Cornfield+Alien=Lana never watching it again. It scared me, though now I feel that it could have just been Crazy Mel. What scares me is that I do believe in life beyond this planet. And to hear my beliefs on that subject we have to be sitting face to face with a vodkay drink in our hands. But I can say that my beliefs fall more into the Chariots of The Gods realm and not in the Illuminati/David Ikee realm. I would like to think that if there was life beyond this planet and that life was more advanced than us to the point that they are able to make transgalactic journeys that the alien race would hopefully be coming in a research capacity, Star Trek style. In fact I like the Star Trek idea a lot. They may be here amongst us, but they have their Prime Directive and as we all know you get in trouble if you break the Prime Directive. I can live with that. But that asshole in my head keeps asking “Yeah but what if they’re not? What if there are alien assholes who go joyriding to our Podunk little planet and kidnap and rape the indigenous peoples because they know we have no way of informing the Federation?” Because if that’s the case with my luck I know I am going to be one of those unlucky bastards! My grandfather said he saw a UFO. Not in the Look up in the sky way, but the Unsolved Mysteries way. 10 feet in front of him and 40 feet up. Before you scoff, my grandfather was a Sheriff and not the type to make up stores or lie. Whatever he saw or felt that night scared him to the point that the 2 times he ever spoke about that night he cried. He wasn’t that type either.
This movie fucked me up. See it.
I watched The Fourth Kind with my husband last night and to be perfectly honest it scared the fuck right out of me. And that very rarely happens. VERY. I love horror. In fact I dedicate the entire month of October as “Scary Movie Month”. In that month I will watch every horror flick regardless of budget that my husband brings home. I dig it. Scary movies are better than horror in my opinion though. If the movie messes with your mind ala The Sixth Sense, more the better. If it is a straight up hack slash flick, none the worse. I’ve seen every Friday the 13th, Nightmare on Elm Street, Halloween, Candyman, and all the other franchise flicks ever made. Those who know me know there is only one franchise I avoid like the plague. That is The Children of the Corn. Won’t touch those with a 10 foot pole.
See I have 2 fears. Both irrational, but what can you do? Anyway I am afraid of corn fields and aliens. Yes I said cornfields. Not corn itself so don’t try to be cute if we’re at a cookout. I love dead corn. But while it is live and in the field….Cringe…shudder. Now with corn fields come a fear of the Amish. Yes, the Amish. They scare me. I don’t know if in a past life I was a Mennonite girl captured for my wicked ways and held prisoner of some twisted “fundamental” Amish who spent years torturing me sexually, physically and mentally. In fact if that would explain several aspects of this lifetime, but I digress. The fact is, I saw The Children of the Corn when I was a bit too young and it scared my over active imagination. It took me 2 solid years of living amidst corn fields before I stopped hyperventilating while driving past one. I know you are laughing, but they terrify me.
So bear that in mind when I tell you that I would rather convert and go live with the Amish than to see a UFO. Aliens petrify me. Don’t get me wrong. Not the X Files or Men in Black type aliens. In fact representations of aliens don’t bug me at all. The only movie I have seen that scared me was Signs. Cornfield+Alien=Lana never watching it again. It scared me, though now I feel that it could have just been Crazy Mel. What scares me is that I do believe in life beyond this planet. And to hear my beliefs on that subject we have to be sitting face to face with a vodkay drink in our hands. But I can say that my beliefs fall more into the Chariots of The Gods realm and not in the Illuminati/David Ikee realm. I would like to think that if there was life beyond this planet and that life was more advanced than us to the point that they are able to make transgalactic journeys that the alien race would hopefully be coming in a research capacity, Star Trek style. In fact I like the Star Trek idea a lot. They may be here amongst us, but they have their Prime Directive and as we all know you get in trouble if you break the Prime Directive. I can live with that. But that asshole in my head keeps asking “Yeah but what if they’re not? What if there are alien assholes who go joyriding to our Podunk little planet and kidnap and rape the indigenous peoples because they know we have no way of informing the Federation?” Because if that’s the case with my luck I know I am going to be one of those unlucky bastards! My grandfather said he saw a UFO. Not in the Look up in the sky way, but the Unsolved Mysteries way. 10 feet in front of him and 40 feet up. Before you scoff, my grandfather was a Sheriff and not the type to make up stores or lie. Whatever he saw or felt that night scared him to the point that the 2 times he ever spoke about that night he cried. He wasn’t that type either.
This movie fucked me up. See it.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
A word on...being bi.
I’m Bi.
I know: Shock! Gasp! It’s true though. Since before I was interested in boys I was interested in girls. My first sexual experiences were with girls. When I masterbate I think about or watch girls. And yet here I am married to a man. WTF?
Why am I telling you this? Because I’m fabulous and I know you wanted to know. You’re welcome. Also because a friend of mine told me that she has been repeatedly attacked both verbally and though email because she identifies as Bi. I repeat: WTF? I’ve received my fair bit of unpleasantness steming from my dalliances with the fairer sex (by which I mean both). But most of what I have encountered is just that, unpleasantness. Not attacks. So I was shocked to say the least.
To explain I hated the term “Bi” for a long time. In my mind bi=frustration. It wasn’t a real identifier. Bi people were kind of “with the band” if you know what I mean. Plus I couldn’t find any real bi women. Because let’s face it when you are “bi” the “bi” only matters when dealing with those of your same sex. Otherwise you are just straight. Anyway I was awash in “bi” women who were not really bi. They were that lovely subset that I would refer to as “poser bi” or “Oh me too!”. You know the ones I am talking about. The ones who say gratuitously how “bi” they are but only when there are people around, most importantly, if there are men around. The ones that will lead you on, making out with you, feeling you up and generally getting you rather wet in the pants at the party, all so they can get their boyfriend hard. They never had any intention of fucking you. You were a means to an end. I was up to my eyes in this type. And let me tell you that is a frustrating place to be.
Now I’ve always had steady boyfriends. I have been single about 3 weeks in the past 15 years (hand to god(s)) but I have never been able to shake that desire for the fairer sex. Thusly I have had several relationships with women in concurrence with my boyfriends. Trust me, they did not mind. However these girls did not identify as “bi”. Those wonderful women who have shared my life were straight clear through. But we were close enough that they felt comfortable telling me they were attracted to me (after years of knowing each other usually) and I gave them a slow introduction to the female anatomy. Then there were the straight up sluts. (These were known as my harem years) Anyway, I have recently learned the term “heteroflexible” and that describes these girls to a T. They were hetero, but for me they were prepared to be a bit flexible. I met most of them at church in my youth group (both kinds). Come to that I had a lot of sex at church events. No wonder I like religion play so much. Damnit Lana, focus! The point is they weren’t “bi”. And the Lesbians I knew at the time were not interested in “bi” girls as a rule (How L Word of them, and look!! Alice and Dana had a wonderful relationship! Until Dana died. FOCUS!)
I knew that I was not heteroflexible. I defiantly was not gay. I just like cock too much. Which left me with “bi” which I associated with frustration. I didn’t like any of these. So I did the only thing I that was appropriate. I stopped labeling myself. I persued relationships where I had interest regardless of what gender they were. If pressed I would say I was “Omnisexual”. During this time of being a sexual omnivore I met the 5 people who I formed long term lasting relationships with. 2 female. 3 male. Though I did not know it at the time most of these relationships were unhealthy power exchanges. But that is another blog for another day. Both females were straight. 2 of the 3 men were bi. How odd is that?
Anyway, I got hip to the D/s scene and learned the term pansexual which though it didn’t quite feel right I took that up for a while. For those of you who don’t know what pansexual means, it means “Yes” but emphatically. It seemed to cover more of my interests which I was finding out were many and varied. I like it all. It’s all hot to me. 2 men fucking. 2 women fucking. 2men and a woman. 2 women and a man. 1 man, 1 woman and a MTF transsexual. 1 man, 1 woman and a FTM transsexual. 4 bis, 2 gays, 3 lesbians, 3 transexuals and a harley. YES! So I identified as pansexual in that I checked that box when I set up my fetlife account. But when I meet someone face to face and they inquire about my sexuality I always say “I’m bi.”
But when I hear from a beautiful strong bi woman that she is being harassed because of how she identifies I had to give it a good think. How should I identify? See in my heart I am bi. Why? Because when I was first finding a word to put to what I am so that others would understand who and what I was, that word was bi. And though other words have come along that may be more spot on, those words have never felt right for me. Yes, I could call myself pansexual so that whoever I meet knows that I like it all (which is somehow more specific) but it’s never felt right for me. Nor has omni or straight or gay or anything else I have stumbled across. Bi feels right to me.
To those who give my friends shit for identifying themselves as Bi, I’m going to say this 2 different ways. 1 nice. 1 not. Take away whichever feels right to you.
1. Sexuality is a long road traveled. No 2 people walk precisely the same path. Those who are lucky enough to know, truly know, their sexuality and feel strong enough to express it to the world and live it openly should not be harassed regardless of if they identify as gay, straight, bi, trans, omni, nuetral, or non gender specific. Or any other sexuality I may not know of because I am sure there are loads. In the end it does not affect or effect you in any way what she, I or anyone else chooses to call themselves. If they are not harming you, then do not harm in return. If you think they should define themselves differently realize that is your opinion and does not mean that others should share it.
And now the second option. This one is the not so nice one. Those with delicate sensibilities should turn away now.
2. Go fuck yourself! You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve emailing someone an unsolicited tirade of hate. Who the fuck are you anyway? Who? A screen name? Fuck right off. My friend is a prominent member of the community in the offline sense of that word. Which means she has the balls to get out from behind the computer screen. She’s not spending an hour composing a scathing letter to someone she doesn’t know because she doesn’t like what some anonymous stranger has on a profile. She’s out there living and loving and playing and fucking and making the most out of this short little blip we call life. So kiss my bi ass on her behalf! She’s too classy to tell you what a fuck wad you are.
Now if the second option offended you feel free to ehate me. But just remember, you had an option and you chose hate. Not me. You. So bring it. I eat Mormons for breakfast.
I know: Shock! Gasp! It’s true though. Since before I was interested in boys I was interested in girls. My first sexual experiences were with girls. When I masterbate I think about or watch girls. And yet here I am married to a man. WTF?
Why am I telling you this? Because I’m fabulous and I know you wanted to know. You’re welcome. Also because a friend of mine told me that she has been repeatedly attacked both verbally and though email because she identifies as Bi. I repeat: WTF? I’ve received my fair bit of unpleasantness steming from my dalliances with the fairer sex (by which I mean both). But most of what I have encountered is just that, unpleasantness. Not attacks. So I was shocked to say the least.
To explain I hated the term “Bi” for a long time. In my mind bi=frustration. It wasn’t a real identifier. Bi people were kind of “with the band” if you know what I mean. Plus I couldn’t find any real bi women. Because let’s face it when you are “bi” the “bi” only matters when dealing with those of your same sex. Otherwise you are just straight. Anyway I was awash in “bi” women who were not really bi. They were that lovely subset that I would refer to as “poser bi” or “Oh me too!”. You know the ones I am talking about. The ones who say gratuitously how “bi” they are but only when there are people around, most importantly, if there are men around. The ones that will lead you on, making out with you, feeling you up and generally getting you rather wet in the pants at the party, all so they can get their boyfriend hard. They never had any intention of fucking you. You were a means to an end. I was up to my eyes in this type. And let me tell you that is a frustrating place to be.
Now I’ve always had steady boyfriends. I have been single about 3 weeks in the past 15 years (hand to god(s)) but I have never been able to shake that desire for the fairer sex. Thusly I have had several relationships with women in concurrence with my boyfriends. Trust me, they did not mind. However these girls did not identify as “bi”. Those wonderful women who have shared my life were straight clear through. But we were close enough that they felt comfortable telling me they were attracted to me (after years of knowing each other usually) and I gave them a slow introduction to the female anatomy. Then there were the straight up sluts. (These were known as my harem years) Anyway, I have recently learned the term “heteroflexible” and that describes these girls to a T. They were hetero, but for me they were prepared to be a bit flexible. I met most of them at church in my youth group (both kinds). Come to that I had a lot of sex at church events. No wonder I like religion play so much. Damnit Lana, focus! The point is they weren’t “bi”. And the Lesbians I knew at the time were not interested in “bi” girls as a rule (How L Word of them, and look!! Alice and Dana had a wonderful relationship! Until Dana died. FOCUS!)
I knew that I was not heteroflexible. I defiantly was not gay. I just like cock too much. Which left me with “bi” which I associated with frustration. I didn’t like any of these. So I did the only thing I that was appropriate. I stopped labeling myself. I persued relationships where I had interest regardless of what gender they were. If pressed I would say I was “Omnisexual”. During this time of being a sexual omnivore I met the 5 people who I formed long term lasting relationships with. 2 female. 3 male. Though I did not know it at the time most of these relationships were unhealthy power exchanges. But that is another blog for another day. Both females were straight. 2 of the 3 men were bi. How odd is that?
Anyway, I got hip to the D/s scene and learned the term pansexual which though it didn’t quite feel right I took that up for a while. For those of you who don’t know what pansexual means, it means “Yes” but emphatically. It seemed to cover more of my interests which I was finding out were many and varied. I like it all. It’s all hot to me. 2 men fucking. 2 women fucking. 2men and a woman. 2 women and a man. 1 man, 1 woman and a MTF transsexual. 1 man, 1 woman and a FTM transsexual. 4 bis, 2 gays, 3 lesbians, 3 transexuals and a harley. YES! So I identified as pansexual in that I checked that box when I set up my fetlife account. But when I meet someone face to face and they inquire about my sexuality I always say “I’m bi.”
But when I hear from a beautiful strong bi woman that she is being harassed because of how she identifies I had to give it a good think. How should I identify? See in my heart I am bi. Why? Because when I was first finding a word to put to what I am so that others would understand who and what I was, that word was bi. And though other words have come along that may be more spot on, those words have never felt right for me. Yes, I could call myself pansexual so that whoever I meet knows that I like it all (which is somehow more specific) but it’s never felt right for me. Nor has omni or straight or gay or anything else I have stumbled across. Bi feels right to me.
To those who give my friends shit for identifying themselves as Bi, I’m going to say this 2 different ways. 1 nice. 1 not. Take away whichever feels right to you.
1. Sexuality is a long road traveled. No 2 people walk precisely the same path. Those who are lucky enough to know, truly know, their sexuality and feel strong enough to express it to the world and live it openly should not be harassed regardless of if they identify as gay, straight, bi, trans, omni, nuetral, or non gender specific. Or any other sexuality I may not know of because I am sure there are loads. In the end it does not affect or effect you in any way what she, I or anyone else chooses to call themselves. If they are not harming you, then do not harm in return. If you think they should define themselves differently realize that is your opinion and does not mean that others should share it.
And now the second option. This one is the not so nice one. Those with delicate sensibilities should turn away now.
2. Go fuck yourself! You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve emailing someone an unsolicited tirade of hate. Who the fuck are you anyway? Who? A screen name? Fuck right off. My friend is a prominent member of the community in the offline sense of that word. Which means she has the balls to get out from behind the computer screen. She’s not spending an hour composing a scathing letter to someone she doesn’t know because she doesn’t like what some anonymous stranger has on a profile. She’s out there living and loving and playing and fucking and making the most out of this short little blip we call life. So kiss my bi ass on her behalf! She’s too classy to tell you what a fuck wad you are.
Now if the second option offended you feel free to ehate me. But just remember, you had an option and you chose hate. Not me. You. So bring it. I eat Mormons for breakfast.
Monday, March 8, 2010
A word on....Sharing
I don't mind sharing when need be. But I have to say that sharing with Master Uncle Sam b...l....o....w....s. I want My sub back. And not just because I need my floors scrubbed.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
A word on...PORN!!!!!
So I bought some new porn this week. We kind of went a bit hog wild and ended up getting 5. What can I say? Valentine's deals! Anyway, I got a Dungeon Doll, an all girl (YUM), a free with purchase Hustler porn and then 2 Nina Hartley's. The first one just has a vignette of her. The second is her Nina Hartley Guide to Strap-On's. I couldn't help myself! Did I mention I got fucked by Nina? Mmmmmm...goodness.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
A word on being fat
So I get online today and as usual the headlines pop up. Minister raises money...blah blah blah...Kate Goslin is getting a new show..barf....Plus Sized Model Wears Bodysuit for Photoshoot....Humm.... So I click on that.
I should have known better.
In the fashion industry what passes for plus sized in a size 8. Which arouses a bit of homicidal rage in me. Really? A size 8? And she DARED to put on a bodysuit? How could she bring herself to squeeze all that fat into it?
Please.
I am fat and am definatly not a size 8. Hell I'm not even a size 18. But you know what? I am fucking hot. It's taken me a long road to get here but I can say that with absolute and utter sincerity.
Once upon a time I was a much smaller lady. Size 12. which I know would kill any chance of being a model. That would be concidered morbidly obese in fashion. However even when I was at that smaller size I thought I was fat. Hugely. I had a horrible self image and like most people with poor self images I allowed others to define my beauty. I sought out relationships to validate my worth. Men and women who treated me at times like less than a person and used my own fears of myself to keep me in check. They withheld the affection I so desperately craved and only doled it out very occasionally. Statements like "You aren' that ugly" were concidered high praise in my fucked up adolecent mind.
Then something changed. I could attribute that change to many things. The disolving of those relationships, moving out and being on my own. But the truth is the change only happened within my own head. I said enough. If I wanted people to love me for me then I had to love myself. Extra roll and all. So I began working on that. And before I knew it, I loved myself.
After I had my kid my body kind of exploded the same as most women in my family. I fought it. I worked hard at the gym. I dieted my way into severe blood problems. I did what I could to try to make myself thinner. It didn't work. So I was faced with a new problem to face. Could I love myself and find myself hot when I was as big as a float (slight exageration)?
The answer I am glad to say is I sure can! And because I love myself and I know that I am a hot piece of ass it is easier for others around me to see me in that light. and if they don't? Fuck em. That is my philosophy. How does it hurt me that some stick insect wants to make a fat ass comment to me at the movie store? More often than not I just turn around and comment back to them that I eat little girls like them for breakfast. That usually scares them into shutting up. I think that a part of them believes me. Which makes me laugh.
Weight does not matter to me. I am happy in my skin. I encourage everyone else to be as well. It makes life so much easier.
The people of the world who want to concider a size 8 plus sized... well fuck em too. Marilyn Monroe dresses wore the modern day eqivalent of a 8/10. And if you want to see some good looking plus sized models check out Leonard Nimoy's Full Body Project. Beautiful. http://www.leonardnimoyphotography.com/2photo.htm
I should have known better.
In the fashion industry what passes for plus sized in a size 8. Which arouses a bit of homicidal rage in me. Really? A size 8? And she DARED to put on a bodysuit? How could she bring herself to squeeze all that fat into it?
Please.
I am fat and am definatly not a size 8. Hell I'm not even a size 18. But you know what? I am fucking hot. It's taken me a long road to get here but I can say that with absolute and utter sincerity.
Once upon a time I was a much smaller lady. Size 12. which I know would kill any chance of being a model. That would be concidered morbidly obese in fashion. However even when I was at that smaller size I thought I was fat. Hugely. I had a horrible self image and like most people with poor self images I allowed others to define my beauty. I sought out relationships to validate my worth. Men and women who treated me at times like less than a person and used my own fears of myself to keep me in check. They withheld the affection I so desperately craved and only doled it out very occasionally. Statements like "You aren' that ugly" were concidered high praise in my fucked up adolecent mind.
Then something changed. I could attribute that change to many things. The disolving of those relationships, moving out and being on my own. But the truth is the change only happened within my own head. I said enough. If I wanted people to love me for me then I had to love myself. Extra roll and all. So I began working on that. And before I knew it, I loved myself.
After I had my kid my body kind of exploded the same as most women in my family. I fought it. I worked hard at the gym. I dieted my way into severe blood problems. I did what I could to try to make myself thinner. It didn't work. So I was faced with a new problem to face. Could I love myself and find myself hot when I was as big as a float (slight exageration)?
The answer I am glad to say is I sure can! And because I love myself and I know that I am a hot piece of ass it is easier for others around me to see me in that light. and if they don't? Fuck em. That is my philosophy. How does it hurt me that some stick insect wants to make a fat ass comment to me at the movie store? More often than not I just turn around and comment back to them that I eat little girls like them for breakfast. That usually scares them into shutting up. I think that a part of them believes me. Which makes me laugh.
Weight does not matter to me. I am happy in my skin. I encourage everyone else to be as well. It makes life so much easier.
The people of the world who want to concider a size 8 plus sized... well fuck em too. Marilyn Monroe dresses wore the modern day eqivalent of a 8/10. And if you want to see some good looking plus sized models check out Leonard Nimoy's Full Body Project. Beautiful. http://www.leonardnimoyphotography.com/2photo.htm
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