My Sister Knows Too Much

So my sister Thursday night busted me for not putting aside the bathmat.  My Mother is using the upstairs bathroom because for now she's confined to one floor and she should where the food is.  But she's still using a walker, which means that any loose object on the floor can trip her up.

My sister had warned me to put the mat away once I was done in there, but I forgot after I took my shower.  She told/admonished me through my bedroom door, and she specifically told me that she was just going to leave the mat there for me to put away.  I guess I can't complain about her move too much, but in the context of siblings calling siblings out, I'm still quite peeved.

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Just to blow off some steam, I tried to look at porn Thursday night, too.  But the damn pop-up ad started off with a woman moaning in ecstasy as the guy stuck himself inside her, and I was listening to Halloween music on YouTube when that fucking happened.  And my sister's bedroom adjoins mine; we share a wall, and both our beds push up against that wall.

Did she hear?  I assume she has, even though she may be asleep.  I turned the sound down on my computer as soon as that porn star screamed, but it may have been too late.  My sister's smart and observant; she hears everything.

I love her, but I'm getting to the point where I wonder when is she leaving.

Fuck, They're Gonna Be Here Forever ...

First of all, I was wrong about what Mother has.  She doesn't have sciatica in her hip; she has a torn meniscus.  Ouch!  And second of all, the worst-case scenario is happening.  You don't magically go in, have knee surgery, and leave the same day like it's outpatient surgery.  In fact, I know that they need to be scheduled, and they need to be scheduled weeks in advance.

And goddammit, that's the case here.  My Mother is getting surgery Thanksgiving Week.  And as I feared, there is going to be a minimum of eight fucking weeks before she can fly out of here.  Moreover, there is an entire schedule of visits -- a couple before the surgery, many rehab and physical therapy sessions after it -- that have to be assembled around the surgery date.  I totally get that, but the fusillade of post-op sessions, not to mention the date of the surgery itself, means that ... goddammit, they're going to be here through January.  Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Everything is ruined, man, everything.  This obviously means I won't get to hang out with my wang out during the holiday season.  Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's -- I'm going to have to holster my pee-pee, continue to hide my porn, and worry about how they fucking feel.  (I know that at some point I'll be bursting to go to a stripper party and get turned out by a stripper.  It's just so weird to do it while My Fucking Parents are in town.)  I can't make cocktails for myself for four months.  I won't have the mental space to figure out the storage situation, which is still up in the air, and since they probably will leave in late January, it doesn't give me much time to figure out a drastic plan if my current situation is no longer tenable.  I have a lease through the end of March, and I might have to haul shit out of a 5' x 5' stall, and that will take a lot of time.

And yeah, sure, what really matters is how My Mother feels.  I need to know her schedule because, shit, I have to help out when I can.  Problem is is that with work, I don't know how much I can be of help.  I don't think I can drive her to every single rehab visit she'll have.  And this is wintertime -- what happens if there is a huge snowstorm on a day she's supposed to go in for physical therapy?  Fuckin' A, I really didn't want her to do this here in Minnesota.  I mean, I think the health system here is much better than most other places, but she needs to walk around after getting her knee fixed, and she can't do it in the snowy and icy roads of a Minnesota winter.

Worse than that is my sister.  I honestly thought that she would be the one helping Mother rehab.  She's not doing anything now, so she has the time to assist her with her exercises and taking her to physical therapy.  But, and I need to talk to her about this, now that we have a surgery date, it looks as though she is making plans to leave.  Dammit, man, I hate that all of this planning might fall on me.  I'm too much of a dick to be of any use.  And knowing My Mother will be in pain means that she will become a huge pain-in-the-ass the first week or so after surgery, where I'm told the pain will be at its worst.  I will have to deal with a bitch for the next four goddamn months, yet I don't know how to handle a bitch who is in physical pain.

The only solace I have is that My Mother is on a waitlist.  If there is a cancellation, this surgery can be moved up.  And My Mother wants this surgery done, like, yesterday.  If by some miracle this can be done next week (and I wonder if that's even possible given that there are two pre-op visits; doesn't there have to be some time between these visits and the surgery?), we all would jump at the chance.  But it probably won't happen, which means I'm fucking stuck with these two reasons I want to kill myself.

Still Fucking Mad At My Fucking Parents

I realized Sunday night that even though I was able to save my shakers and strainer, my jigger and juicers are gone.  Don't know where the hell they are, so they must've thrown them away and I wasn't able to find them.  Jesus fucking Christ, if they just fucking looked at them, they would've known that they were useful.  And they just fucking threw them away.

I couldn't sleep last night.  I was determined to move my stuff.  Without knowing where they might hit me next, I honed in on all my Franklin Planners that I have kept over the years.  I know that if they want to, they can look through them and ask, for example, "Who's (stripper girlfriend's name)?"  And I won't know what to say.  For all the rank invasion of privacy they have just inflicted upon me, none of it appears to be sexual in nature -- as in they haven't found my porn or my cum towel because I had the foresight to throw those into my storage unit.  Thank goodness I still have that.  But, if they want to snoop and look at what I wrote, they might figure shit out.  And if they do, I wouldn't know what to do then.  And I'll leave it at that.

So I devised a plan on taking all my Franklin Planners and throw them into my car to eventually take to my storage place.  But I've been using day planners for, once I started packing them into bags, for upwards of a quarter century.  That's a quarter-century's worth of papers I have put in binders.  It filled two bags, and my unit already is six feet tall.  Man ... do I really have to do this?

I then thought I could bag them, then wait for a morning where I can quickly take them to the car, but I got stopped at the thought of throwing them on top of my tall pile of stuff.  And then I tried stashing them back in my room, specifically my nightstand, but that got full really quick.  I then realized that they were kind of perfect in the bookshelf in my former room which, for some fucking reason, has turned into My Fucking Mother's room she will use if/when she gets hip surgery.

I am scared that I will regret this, but I punted on my plan.  What I wanted to do was a hell of a lot of work that I didn't think was worth it.  So I kind of did half of my plan.  I have put the binders for the six most-recent years in a drawer in my bedroom.  The earliest binders I put back in the bookshelf, even though I made it nicer and put them behind a row of photo albums.  That left two binders, and I think My Fucking Parents won't see that I put them in my nightstand.  Over subsequent years -- if they don't fucking throw them away -- once I bundle the previous year's paper in a binder, I will put it in my drawer, then take the oldest one and put it in my nightstand.  It's the best I am willing to do.  And I hope to Buddha My Fucking Parents don't fuck with them.

And by the way, it may have taken me awhile to realize what else My Fucking Parents threw away.  And I reserve the right to get pissed off later if I realize there are other things they've taken from me.

The Death Of Summer

Went to The Minnesota State Fair yesterday/Sunday -- for some peace and quiet.  It might sound paradoxical to say that since, well, everybody's at the State Fair.  But honestly, seeing everybody so happy (well, besides the kids crying because of something or other) gave me a serenity that's sorely lacking at home now.

They made me go through all my stuff even though it didn't hurt anyone.  They fucking rearranged my room.  They even got into the locked goddamn compartment in my desk.  They took everything.  They found everything that was in here ... which means, thank Buddha, that they didn't see my porn because I moved it all out to my storage space.  But I am looking at my bedroom, what is supposed to be my safe place, my fortress, and it is completely unrecognizable to me because both My Fucking Parents moved everything around to something they like even though I'm the one who has to live in it.

I have always been wistful on my last visit to the Fair.  I've always associated it with the end/death of summer, and so when I walk out of the Fairgrounds for the last time, to me it feels like I'm leaving summer behind me.  But I'm more sentimental and sad about summer this time around because of how shitty I feel because of the trauma My Fucking Parents inflicted on me.  It was so happy there, and because of that I was happy, and I could feel as though I could forget my worries for a few hours.  But while I tried to put it out of my mind, I still remembered that, at some point, the joy I felt had to end, and I had to return to a place where, frankly, I don't feel secure right now.  I leave the happiness of summer behind and enter a fall (the season I like the most, ironically) with two people who fucking torment me when they should be my champions.  And so it feels as though it's all crashing down.

Facial Rec For OnlyFans?!?! GTFOH!!!

So I tried logging into OnlyFans a few days ago, and instead of seeing its busy, clunky homepage, I was told I needed to be verified.  The link I clicked on sent me to this third-party site that had a lot of words that I needed to read.  There it said that I need to be verified through, get this, facial recognition.

That shit came at me out of the blue.  I understand that maybe you need ways to identify consumers on your porn site.  But I also have the right to opt out and not volunteer my physical features to a company just so I can beat off to naked women.  So I refuse.  And that probably means I won't use OnlyFans unless they end or even lighten the policy, so I might not ever use it again.

I am kind of crestfallen, but I don't trust a porn site to keep my facial characteristics secure.  For all I know, they'll sell images of me to an artificial intelligence company.  That fear overrides any understanding that this company should know who you are.  Too bad; whenever I needed to see someone naked for a bit, I sometimes went out to OF.  But only sometimes because -- and maybe I need to rant a bit here -- its interface was awful.  I try to press a button and it would take forever to get to the next page.  And it's so picture- and video-heavy (for obvious reasons), yet it had a difficult time reloading and refreshing.  You would think a porn site would fix a loading problem.  But whatever, I can't and won't go there anymore.

I Don't Know Why I Let Her Hurt Me So

So I'm social media friends with this porn star.  We have a mutual friend.  I find her to be engaging and smart.  I also see, from the way she shoots down incels, that she doesn't suffer fools lightly, and as a fool, I was afraid that she would turn her verbal knives on me, and for something that I completely didn't intend.

With that being said, I did have the option of choosing my words carefully, even deciding not to comment on something she said.  And yet, on Facebook, I went over the breach when she posted a screenshot of a text exchange with, er, someone.  This guy started off the conversation (or at least the the first part of the conversation she showed) with something along the lines of, "Well, I'll probably get shot down, but YOLO -- would you go out with me?" to which she replied, "Well, since you started off being so insecure, you definitely will get shot down."  See, I see a lot of myself in this guy.  He needs to put up his walls even if he tries to do something positive because he is afraid, and he knows, that he will get hurt.  I think that's totally understandable.

Therefore, I ventured into her comments section and said something to the effect of, "I think he was only being humble."  For some reason I thought she wouldn't respond.  She is busy working on a film, or something.  Instead, she immediately goes, "WHAT?!"  Ah, whoops.

Just then I imagined myself at a fork in the road -- like, literally standing on the spot where one road splits into two.  I could just not respond, and so she would either let it go or think that I was being a dick who couldn't back up what I said.  On the other hand, I could respond, and either she could be understanding (or, better yet, laugh at my comment) ... or she could totally ridicule me.  Either way, there remains the possibility that she would block me.

With what I thought was a binary choice, I think I actually found a middle path that may have made things even worse.  I replied, quickly, and I thought I had something to say, something like, "So you're telling me this dude, who I assume you've never met, actually had a chance to meet or go out with or even have sex with you, but you shot him down because he expressed self-doubt that someone who is both gorgeous and in adult films would say yes?"  But I thought that I would be saying too much.  Also, I thought time was of the essence; if I didn't say something, she would cut me off at the knees.  So, as a stupid compromise, I went "I just ..." and then I threw up a shrug emoji.  And she replied, "ok weirdo."

Well, I guess I blew my chance to meet or go out with or even have sex with her, too.  But ever since it happened last night, she's been on my mind, and my brain continues to ask why that is.  I have seen her naked.  I have seen her "work."  She's bleepin' gorgeous and can go all night like an incinerator.  But I've never met her.  We have interacted through social media a few times, but I have never met her.  So why is her comment affecting me so much?  Better I put it this way: Why am I letting someone I've never met affect me so much?  It's because she's a porn star, or that she's hot, or that she was nice to me a few times before.  But still, I have to be honest: We've never met.  We are not friends.  So why does her comment to me make me so sad?  I can't be like that.  Otherwise, my day will be ruined whenever someone isn't nice to me.  Well, that actually happens now, but that's something that I shouldn't let happen to me, you know?

I'll try and get over it.  But there is one saving grace to all this.  I would think that if she snaps at someone like she did to me, she would block that person.  It's the Internet, after all, and if she didn't like what I said, it stands to reason that she would block me, for safety's sake or because she's annoyed.  But she hasn't, at least not yet.  Maybe she recognizes my name and thinks, "Whatever, he's harmless."  That probably is the best I can shoot for, and maybe, just maybe, I can think of something more clever to say to her in order to get back in her good graces.  (Gosh, look at me caring what she thinks of me again.)

What, You Don't Want To Post My Dirty Comments About You?

So, before OnlyFans, I was on this patron site called Patreon.  Have you heard of it?  Any creatives can put up a shingle and ask for monthly contributions in exchange for their creative work.  The more you pay a month, the more and bigger perks you get.  I don't know who or when or how I got hip to this, but I have several people I support, nominally, through Patreon.  A few of them are models whom publish hot naked photos of themselves.

One of them, who I will not name, is a prodigious publisher.  She may be the only travelling model who is using Patreon exclusively and dutifully.  She has regularly posted pictures of her modeling photos, most of them where she's stark naked.  Boy, she luuuuuuuuuuuvs to get naked.  So much so that I don't mind sending her perverted comments.

While her modeling photos are good, I love the times where she isn't putting up photos of herself in various states of undress and she's just blatantly fucking flashing her tits.  I fucking get all goo-goo eyed for that shit.  And I can't help but comment pervertedly.  Hey, she damn well knows what she's doing -- why can't I be honest about my reaction?  I'm not stalking her or anything!

So I go on the Patreon app yesterday/Saturday and see that she uploaded a flashing photo, one of her in her car, just pulling her top down enough to show us her right tit and her exceedingly hard nipple.  A feverish curtain fell in front of my eyes, and I just had to tell her that I felt the urge to, you know, touch myself.  And so I did, in no uncertain terms.  We're all adults here, right?

I checked her photo and the comments a bit later.  I don't see my comment.  And, this is not the first time.  Moreover, I have spoken to her about the idea of "pornography," and whether what she is doing falls under that category.  I thought we had a productive conversation about it ... but that didn't mean I was going to not tell her about any impure thoughts that are conjured up inside of me when I see future images of her in various states of undress.

But it looks as though she ain't into that at all.  So, what now?  On the one hand I'm sure she would rather me not comment like a pervert to her, but on the other hand, I know she wants my money.  Should I continue to leverage that bind she's in by continuing to act like a dirty old man?  Or do I pull back and hope my, uh, moderation will get me back into her good graces, even though that would make me a fake?  Finally, is there a line I could push past that would convince her to block me?

Analyzing The 2023 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue

Compared to the porn I watch on a regular basis, The Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue completely pales in comparison.  Maybe that's been obvious ever since I turned 18, and maybe my last time to ever acknowledge that without losing any cis male/heterosexual credibility was around the time this issue went "woke," but if I haven't said it before, well, I'm saying it now.  I am buying these yearly issues based on tradition, the same way I keep accepting and paying for binded books of the yearly addendum of my World Book Encyclopedia (that gives me an idea for a future blog post, but I digress).

With all that said, I have to say that the 2023 issue is a ... good one, and it is a great one compared to previous years.  I think the main reason is that the, well, "progressive" angle has either been tamped down or successfully integrated into the issue in a way that doesn't distract from the women being photographed in the edition.  It doesn't look as though they're making that big of a deal that these "differently-sized" models are posing, and that all of these models have lives outside of modeling meant to advance a good cause or show that she's more than a model.  That's all in the background.  That, or I have gotten so used to the proselytizing that I don't notice it now, one or the other.

At any rate, it's easier in the '23 SI Swimsuit Issue to look at gorgeous women than in recent years.  For example, I am grateful for the veterans of this issue, such as Hailey Clauson, Camille Kostek, and Jasmine Sanders.  I am piqued at some of the returnees who have got some good pictures this time around.  For one, I will point out Brooks Nader, whose cover for this issue I chose to buy from Amazon.  She's got a powerful, bangin' shot on the cover (chunky-ass bracelets notwithstanding), and her shot on page 23 is hot as hell.  I'm also looking at Lorena Duran, who, I admit, I like most of all for her ass shot on p. 126.  (Yes, the ass shots are the best ones in SI's issue.  See also Kostek's butt on p. 30 and Kamie Crawford's on p. 73.  I will be jerking off to them soon.)  Again, there are models of all body types here, and that's never going to change.  But if you want them skinny and "traditional," they're here.  Oh, they're here.  (And before I forget ... a model in the ascendency: Olivia Ponton.  See her on pages 99, 104, and 108.)

And you know, maybe the reason this feels like a throwback is that the celebrities they convinced to pose are, for the most part, conventional beauties.  LSU gymnast and social media/NIL superstar Olivia Dunne has a spread here.  Is she a starter for LSU?  I don't think so; when I saw LSU win its first-ever NCAA championship in the sport at the bar this spring, it looked as though she was asking to be photographed with the trophy for her social media, and it didn't look like she broke a sweat helping out the team.  But I guess it doesn't matter, because she's fucking hot in Sports Illustrated too, and yes, she flashes her toned ass a couple times.  Another hot woman from LSU, rebounding maven (and big who can't shoot straight) Angel Reese has a couple photographs here.  Another spread is given to Padma Lakshmi, and there may not be a more underrated celebrity when it comes to physical beauty and the courage to show it off than Lakshmi.  Look at her pics -- she's a babe, hands down.  Too bad she doesn't flaunt her ass; it's probably nice.  German transsexual pop star Kim Petras also shows off her butt, and hey, it (as well as the rest of her) ain't bad.  And while Martha Stewart keeps her bikinis in one piece, the way she flirts with the camera suggests that if she gets enough wine in her, she might be prone to cattin' around.  Just sayin'.

This is the best Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue in many a year, and it might be as good as it'll ever get.  If you haven't bought it, do so.

Urges: One More Day ... OK, Maybe Two More Days

In the mad scramble to prepare for my sister and brother-in-law coming here, I needed to take my jerk-off towel to my storage unit.  My sister never comes into my room anymore.  She thinks it smells.  On the hand I'm upset that she finds me so repellent that way.  On the other ... well, that means that she won't touch my shit and will leave me alone, and I always will like that.

Now, with that being said, I am paranoid enough to think that she would go into my room and peep around when I was away at work, just to be nosy or if my fucking parents goad her into doing it.  And it's not as if there's a lock in the closet.  She could have just opened it and smelled it and saw it right there.  And come to think of it, I find it very weird to try and rub one out while they're in the room on the other side of the wall.  Maybe that was the reason why I took it out of here.

Anyway, I have been able to refrain from masturbation for the past week-and-a-half or so.  Moreover, it's been pretty easy, "thanks," I guess, to my slowing libido.  There's this one chick on Zishy I have been obsessing over tonight, though.  I just found out she has an Instagram and an OnlyFans; maybe I'll be able to check her out once my sis and bro-in-law leave -- and not have the urge to wank before then.

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Meanwhile, I'll confess, I have not been, uh, evacuating my bowels a lot since they got here.  I don't think that has anything to do with them being here; my body just goes through cycles like that.  Until now, thankfully.  I've had my first, um, productive evacuation in a long, long time.  I don't think I ate anything out of the ordinary yesterday/Saturday -- just Chinese food and wonton soup.  I don't consider them to be fiber-rich foods, so I don't exactly know why I had a good bowel movement now.  Maybe it was just time.  If so, good, because I haven't felt this good since at least Tuesday!

The Weekly Minnesota Sports Survey

#-1: Twins (Last Week: -2).  The good news is that that had a 4-2 Week, taking two-of-three from both Detroit and Houston, both series at home.  (Christian Vazquez was the hero for yesterday's/Sunday afternoon's 3-2 Win, driving in all three Runs including the Game-ending Home Run in the bottom of the Ninth Inning.)  The bad news is that, even though they have a better Last 10 than Cleveland, they remain six Games back of the Guardians for the lead in the A. L. Central.  The, uh, neutral news is that they still have ALWC2 (pronounced "Al Wick two") and are three Games ahead of the Last Team Out, Kansas City.  Congratulations, by the way, to Carlos Correa, who was named an All-Star.  I am getting more and more able to forget that he was with the Asterisks.  A quick thought and prayer to Royce Lewis, who is back on the Injured List for another non-contact injury.  The last thing we need is Byron Buxton v.2.0.

This is the last screening Week before the All-Star Break, and it's a light schedule: A two-fer at the White Sox Tuesday and Wednesday, then three in San Francisco for the weekend.

#-2: Lynx (Last Week: -1).  Watch this space, unfortunately.  On Tuesday, talisman Napheesa Collier came out of the Game at The New York Liberty.  Turns out, she injured her foot, and as far as we know, we don't know when she's coming back, nor if she can still play for The United States Olympic Women's Basketball Team.  They lost to the Libs by nine, then came home to lose to Connecticut Independence Night by five.  They, however, regrouped to defeat Washington at Target Center by seven Saturday evening.  It stands to reason that without Collier, they would lose to the other two best clubs in the W, but beat a squad that's improving but is still finding itself, even though I can take some moral victories from them losing to the Liberty and the Sun by single digits.

With the Lynx two Games behind both New York and Connecticut, I don't think they'll be getting home-court advantage into the Second Round of the WNBA Playoffs, let alone throughout.  They just have to weather Collier's absence (although foot injuries are sometimes hard to figure out a timeline as to when they are healed enough) this Week as they travel to Los Angeles and Seattle, then host Caitlin Clark and The Indiana Fever Sunday afternoon.

#-3: United FC (Last Week: -4).  Goddammit, why do I spend money on this team?

On Wednesday the Goooooons got off to a fucking shit start; I don't know if third-string Goalkeeper Alex Smir or Centerback Michael Boxall was at fault, but two Vancouver attackers pressed them high, one of them was not paying attention, and a backpass was pounced on for the first Goal of the Match only four Minutes in.  Then came a header from a cross and a lobbing golazo from just outside the box, and both Goals went into the net without much trouble.  The Whitecaps won for the first time at Allianz Field, 3-1.

Last/Sunday night they were at the Galaxy.  I decided, by the way, to go out to The Taste Of Minnesota in the hopes of seeing my stripper girlfriend there, who drove to the Twin Cities from the west-central part of the state.  I stopped by a speakeasy before going home, but I was able to catch the start of the Match just as I started my car up.  Went home, poisoned my brain and my confidence by doomscrolling through Twitter, then remembered that Match was on.  Went to set up the AppleTV, then checked the score on my Yahoo! Sports app, then saw that the Galaxy scored first.  Unplugged the AppleTV and looked at some porn and, after I, ahem, finished, I checked the score again.  Hey, Teemu Pukki is back, and he tied it up!  So I set up the AppleTV again and this time I actually turned my TV on ... just to see, in the 88th Minute, the Galaxy score the Game-winning Goal.  Unplugged the AppleTV and caught the back half of a rerun of Austin City Limits.

These fuckers have now lost six in a row and are winless in their last seven.  And an XI that was once leading MLS in Points Per Game is now in tenth place in the West, out of a playoff spot.  This is so bad that getting Tani Oluwaseyi and Dayne St. Clair back from The Canadian Men's National Soccer Team (they'll lose Tuesday night to Argentina, I can guarantee it) won't fix this team's problems.  This is so awful that I don't know if an aggressive Transfer Window will stop this freefall.  Fucking Christ!

At Houston Saturday.

I Am Back On OnlyFans. No, I Don't Know If I Can Handle Myself

Yeah, so I'm back spending money on OnlyFans.  When I was vacationing in St. Louis, I got bed dances from a stripper who told me she was on OF.  I have never had that happen before, even though it stands to reason, and I have been feeling kind of guilty not subscribing to her until now, especially since she gave me her phone number in order to text me her OF URL.

It has been six weeks, and like I've said before, my principle is that if I spend something one day on one thing, I need to spend something on another thing.  I got my hair cut after work, and remembering that I used my credit card on only one thing on Monday, I made sure I used my card yesterday/Wednesday on at least another thing ... even though I had already gotten McDonald's before going into work.  So last night I subscribed to her, at least for a month.  I was worried that it hadn't been updated with new stuff, and her last entry was earlier this month, namely a selfie of her baring her tits, probably at the strip club I saw her at.  Many of her photos on her OF is just her with her showing off her boobs, either at work or at her house/apartment.  Not bad, although I could stand to see her bush.  More photos, too.  I texted her that I finally subscribed to her last/Wednesday evening, but I have yet to hear back from her.

Meanwhile, there was another woman who I am Facebook friends with for which I also bit the bullet and subscribed to her OF.  She is one of those types of women I am looking for: A bodybuilder who's not afraid to get naked for the camera.  I was once hesitant to subscribe to her because her monthly cost is way more than I have nearly always paid for a photo on OF.  But she is ripped like crazy, man, and if getting into her account means she shows off the rest of her hot body, it would be worth it.  So I paid the $20 for just one month ... and goddamn, she shows everything and she is a fucking perv while she's showing it!!!  I haven't gotten hard to a woman like that in a long time, and I probably will go back on her OF and touch myself after I blog post this.

I last paid for something on OnlyFans late in July.  I didn't stop myself; rather, that was around the time the credit card I was using expired.  I would have to input a new credit card in order to pay for things on OF.  It was getting difficult for me to stop paying for photos and videos on OF.  It was costing me more and more money, and I was getting addicted.  Thus, the barrier of needing to sit down and add a credit card to my OF account was enough to wean off of it.  Till now, of course.

I don't think I learned anything.  I did see my credit card expenses lighten after getting off OnlyFans (so to speak), but I haven't really stopped spending.  And now, because I feel obligated to a stripper who I had just met but to whom I flashed my penis, I have not only paid for something on OF but (I am guessing this policy is new since July) added my credit card to my account so the company and probably the federal government can track me.  And this credit card won't expire for years.

For this bodybuilder I have already disabled monthly renewal.  If I didn't do that, I would figuratively be cumming in her hand until I am broke.  For this other stripper ... well, I haven't stopped renewal yet, but if I don't hear back from her, it will be easy for me to.  But hey, we shared a moment and have a simpatico.  It'll be a tad more difficult to not pay for her OF.  And then the question becomes can I stay away from the other hot women on that site?  Honestly, I don't know.  And that might ruin me.

I just had to send out a mass e-mail to a group, and I am reminded that when I do, I occasionally also have another Internet window up where I peruse porn.  And I get deathly, deathly afraid that somehow those two windows will "cross," you know, so that one of the people from my group will e-mail me back and say, "You know, we know you were looking at porn when you sent that e-mail."  And I would be mortified, absolutely mortified.

Good thing I'm just being paranoid about that -- right?

Oh, Wait, I Can't Watch Porn Now ... And That's OK ... ?

Yeah, I kind of realized this last/Sunday night before I went to bed: Since I don't have my laptop with me because it's getting fixed, I can't watch any porn if I want to.  At first I was bummed out.  I am not going to go on either of My Father's computers to look at it because I'm too scared I'd get caught.  (Granted, that didn't stop me way back when, when I didn't have my own lap and was using his computer to go on the Internet regularly.)  There are my old Playboys I've stashed in my desk, and there's the Hooters calendar hanging up on my wall right now, but physical media is so nineties.

So, what to do?  How about nothing?  Once I had my realization, I shrugged.  I don't feel the need to jerk off much these days now that I'm old and frail.  I certainly don't feel it now, as I'm typing.  So frankly, I'm not missing it.  I think I can go a week without porn.  Now, if the urge hits me out of blue some time before the weekend, well, I will take back everything I just said.

Thirty-Four Years Ago Tonight, I Discovered I Had Hair Around My Dick

I have wanted to blog post about this for so long, but I only wanted to do so on the anniversary, and every time it rolled around, I forgot.  I forgot late last night when I spontaneously decided to blog post about how I'm years behind balancing my checkbook.  Well, it's time to talk about it now.

So yeah, January 10, 1990 ... I remember sitting on the toilet, either going #1 or #2, and scratching my groin.  Naturally I looked down ... and, by God, I saw hairs surrounding my dick.  I was only 13 at the time, and I remember being absolutely terrified at the changes to my body.  I think I was beginning to get obsessed with hairs underneath my arms.  I was really frightened by all the hairs that were starting to appear on my legs, and I spent many a time plucking them out.  My trichotillomania was a bid to stop my body from rebelling against me.  I had heard of this concept called "adolescence" as soon as I started 7th grade, but I didn't pay any attention to sex ed class at school, so I learned about what was about to happen to me through friends and classmates.  And it scared the shit out of me.  So I vainly hoped to remain looking like the same person I have gotten used to by plucking the fuck out of myself.

But the hair around my cock?  Don't know what I could do about that.  It's not as if I could pluck all those hairs down there; it'd hurt like hell.  I don't know if I saw any dick fur in any of the porn I saw up to that point, but I heard about pubes before I got them myself.  No, I was not happy, nor proud that I was "becoming a man."  It was the most glaring sign yet that my body was transforming, and in ways that metaphorically dropped me to my knees in fear and sadness and helplessness.  It was already a hopeless task to pluck all the hairs on my legs and in my pits.  I just knew, once I felt my hair down there, that it was game over for me.

You know, my body is changing in ways I don't understand now, too, just in a different way.  Well, I understand why it's changing now -- I'm getting older and I'm not totally watching my diet.  That's why my belly has been getting bigger and bigger over the course of the past two decades, and why pants that used to fit me just fine I am now straining to suck my gut in to, then fearing that the button will pop out and fly across the room.  (That's happened once or twice to me already.)  But I am not confused about what is happening to me now like I was then.  Just resigned.

---

By the way, I am absolutely certain that in prime time that night, I was watching an episode of Quantum Leap (The Original Series staring Scott Bakula, not the revival that's on right now of which I have seen  only a minute) that mirrored my "discovery" later that night.  Bakula leaped into the body of a mother whose son is running away because he didn't know what his body was doing -- maybe.  In one scene, Bakula was captured by a group of random men, and one of them tore open the front of "his" dress.  I'm sure Bakula got out of it without getting assaulted.  Anyway, the theme of changing and sexualizing bodies became apt for me that evening when I relieved myself in the bathroom.  And it hit me like a ton of bricks, and I have never, ever been the same ever, ever again.

For the first time in a long time, I came twice in one day.  In one evening, in fact.  Didn't pud out much; it's not like I can turn back the clocks on my ejaculate.  But both times I was out of my mind tired, and that meant that all my blood rushed into my dick, and that got me all horny, and so I looked at some porn on the Internet and started touching myself.  There might not have been semen, but there was completion, and thank goodness I can still get it up and get it out if the mood strikes me.

When Is Showing A Tit Not Nudity, And When Does It Stop Turning You On?

I was struggling with what to blog post, but thank goodness I signed off on my e-mail and scrolled through the front page of Yahoo!  There is a story about Kelly Crump, who posed in this year's Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue.  She is not a model, or at least she didn't model at all before she answered one of SI's auditions.  But she was compelled to try out after getting a mastectomy in her left breast to combat her breast cancer.  And like it often is with the now-woke Swimsuit Issue, Crump's unique backstory got her on its pages.  (It helps that the 44-year-old is in very good shape and hot as fuck.)

What I didn't expect is that the magazine would show the scar.  Thing is, it's right across the middle of her left tit ... and yes, you see that, her whole left tit, in the magazine.  There is no nipple or areola, just the breast.  But Crump flashes it for all to see.

Bold choice by Sports Illustrated.  But I have to ask: Isn't that nudity?  If it isn't, are you saying that it's only a nipple and/or areola that turns a breast into an obscenity that needs to be regulated?  I would think that a breast would be enough to have a magazine that picture is in be covered in plastic ... but then I see the photo in question and it is ... just ... skin.  Maybe this picture lives in a liminal state where it isn't pornography, but it isn't something we should freely allow children to see either.  Or maybe the mag and society are just trying to figure out what should be acceptable.

Moreover, how, uh, titillating is a tit without a nipple?  Is it no longer arousing without one, or can you get up for it?  Maybe context is important; like I said, Kelly Crump is fucking gorgeous, and she is wearing a swimsuit whereby (I think) the part of the suit that would cover the left boob is pulled down to show it off, and like I have said before, I love flasher photos.  But maybe you disagree?

Anyway, here is the story.  If you have any opinion, let me know in the comments below.  But for right now, I will say that showing a tit with a mastectomy scar is still nudity, and a tit with no nipple nor areola is still erection-inducing.  I bought this issue a couple months ago through Amazon and I still haven't opened up the box, but if she and her exposed boob is in there, I'm ripping open that box as soon as I have time.  And I will probably jerk off to that picture, too.

Money > OnlyFans

I got money out of the ATM today.  I looked at my balance.  And yes, it was payday yesterday, but it's been real flush for a while, ever since the credit card I signed up for my OnlyFans expired and I used my willpower not to add a new card.  I had always rationalized the money I spent on OF -- I need the porn, my parents are giving me shit, it's not that bad (I'll just buy photos and videos once a week ... a lot of photos and videos), yadda-yadda-yadda.  I kind of knew I was getting out of control with it, and while I have compiled everything single thing I bought there on a spreadsheet, I didn't really look, you know?

I was able to keep up with my credit card bill, but it was a hell of a credit card bill every month.  However, ever since I cut the cord with OF, my checking account has grown.  It's not as if I've been cutting spending on anything else.  Nope, I usually get coffee before work, I eat an inordinate amount of fast food, and I go out to restaurants and cocktail bars frequently.  But until recently, the amount of money I needed to pay off my credit cards exceeded one of the two paychecks I receive every month.  One could say you're living perfectly; to me, that's going one step forward and one step back.  And I am happy, very happy, to see the money in my account growing.

I love my porn.  I might go back to it when I'm feeling horny or sorry for myself.  But right now, I think I made a very wise decision not to spend money on OF.  And I think I'll continue.

Can I Perform For Them?

So, about an hour from when I type this, I will be in south Minneapolis for -- uh, I am guessing the sixth or seventh time I get double-teamed by ***e* and ******e.  ***e* is in town for a party tonight, which I can't go to because I have plans, but they are accommodating me by having me come in this morning.

I gotta admit I am so hard right now, but that's only because of morningwood.  I am amping myself up right now looking at pornography.  But old age (and being unfit) is catching up with me, and I am scared that I won't get hard enough to get jacked off by those two.  Don't get me wrong; if there are ever two people who know how to get me off on a regular basis, it's those two.  But I've been going to them for a long time, and I can remember how, uh, manly I was when shooting back when we started, and that's nowhere close to how I can perform now.  Right now, the goal is to just shoot.

Hope I feel satisfied afterward.

Saving Money On Porn? Hopefully

I hope I haven't blog posted about this yet, but I don't have much else to talk about, at least for now.

I have been hardcore on OnlyFans ever since I listened to the devils of my worse nature and turned over my credit card.  After spiraling into a porn binge some days, where I was just racking up the charges, I tried to bargain with myself into treating them like rewards for being good.  The things I had rewarded myself for "being good," however, were really low, and I mean pathetically low, bars to reach, stuff like, "Haven't paid for porn in a week," or, "Had a tough day at work."  I'll be honest, there's a chance I might revert to that again some day in the future.

Nevertheless the charges were piling up, taking a big chunk of my paycheck every pay period.  I enjoyed it -- well, I enjoyed all the pictures and videos that showed the woman to whom I charged my credit card actually got naked.  But it's a hell of an expensive hobby, especially for a person who bought as frequently as I do.  That's what happens when you assign a credit card to the website from which you can buy as much porn as your penis desires with a tap on the screen.

If that's the case, then the best thing to happen to me is that my credit card expired.  Upon seeing that, I saw a surefire way to break, or at least limit, my (and I hate saying this, but it's probably correct) addiction.  I would need to go out of my way to update my card -- if "going out of my way" consisted of getting out of bed, fetching my wallet, taking out my new credit card, inputting its information, getting off the bed again, and putting the wallet back in my pants.  As much as I crave porn (and, again, I might fall back into it again at some point), what I don't like is moving once I'm in bed.  And those steps, to me, at least right now, is enough of a barrier for me to not put in new credit card information.

So, once my old credit card lapsed, which was around early August, I just ... haven't replaced it.  I haven't bought any photos or videos since.  I had several subscriptions, and I allowed all of those to expire.  I will admit that there are several babes on OF who offer free trial subscriptions, and I have accepted a few of those.  But I have so far been able to resist temptation.

Is this being reflected in my wallet?  I hope so.  But not only have I not inputted info for the the new credit card on OnlyFans, I have gone out of my way not to use that card, period.  That is an OCD thing.  I don't want to use a new card because it's in a "perfect" state, and I don't feel the need to change anything if I'm, for lack of a better word, OK going about my day without using it.  I have activated it, and I used it one day, for buying a ticket to a movie online.  (Ah, might as well; it's a Visa, and there are still places that take Visa but not American Express, though I think the number is dwindling.)  But I think that was early last month, and I have not used it since, and I'm proud of myself for that.  I'm racking up the charges on my other credit card, and that's reason enough to begin using this new one.  But I want to at least wait one full credit card cycle before going back to using it again.  I think I still have my Visa statements mailed to me, and I want to go one whole month without them sending a statement because there is no statement for Visa to mail.  Maybe I'll wait till Halloween, or even Thanksgiving, if I can help it.

In the meantime, since I am not allowing myself to buy porn on OF, I haven't been on OF a whole lot.  I drop in on occasion to see if any of the women on the free accounts flash their boobs or record themselves getting penetrated.  But not being able to easily pay for porn has curtailed my visits.  I think that's a good thing, and I think my wallet as well as my psyche will begin to heal -- at least for a bit, at least until I feed my porn addiction again.

My Attempts To Be Light-Hearted And Sociable Aren't Going Very Well

So last Monday/Labor Day, as I was spending some final minutes with my friend at the Minnesota State Fair, I saw a hot woman all tatted up walk by with who presumably is her boyfriend.  I recognize her.  She is (or was; hadn't seen her the past couple Matches) a capo for MNUFC.  She also is ... well, shit, I'm just going to call her a porn star.  She has an OnlyFans and I have bought at least one photo of her completely naked and, maybe, inserting a dildo into herself.  And on top of all that, I swear, I swear, I have spoken to her before once back in the soccer club's semi-pro days up near where I live.  There was a season-ending party for the club.  I came to eat free food, and she and another woman just sat next to me and we started chatting.  I think those two worked for the franchise at the time.

Anyway, I don't expect her to remember that, or even who I am.  But I follow her on X (formerly known as Twitter, glink), where, after I got home from the State Fair, I saw a tweet from her (which she made presumably before the State Fair) about going to the Fair and hating it.  And I thought, "Hey!  This is a great time to tweet that I saw her in passing while I was having a drink with my friend!"  And I did that.  And ... nothing.  I don't expect her to get back to me on this, and I shouldn't assume the worst because I didn't get a like or a follow.  But ... is she creeped out that I told her I saw her at the Fair?

Oh, and another thing.  I think also that evening I went on Facebook and looked through a Mensa group I'm in.  A guy who I met over the Super Bowl when it was here posts a lot on there, more so than any other member.  It's usually about weird stuff.  This post is about this, uh, meme or whatchamacalit whereby (and I have no idea if this is true) Schiphol airport in Amsterdam apparently had this huge problem with cleaning costs because were missing while urinating at urinals, so the airport installed pictures of flies in the bottom of the urinals so men would aim their piss at it.

So, one of the commenters in the group said, "I aim at drain fly larvae at work."  And to me, it sounded like he was using this meme as a way to complain about his co-workers.  We are Mensans -- we not only are smart, but we have kind of a randy sense of humor.  Then again, we also have a problem with reading the room.  But I was kind of feeling myself and thought I would type out a really great joke I made when I saw his comment.  So I replied to him -- and to be clear, I don't know the guy, we're just part of the same "exclusive" group -- something to the effect of, "What did your co-workers do to you to make you pee on them?"  And the guy goes, "What?"  And I immediately started backpedaling -- "Oh, sorry!  I meant that as a really bad joke!  You know what?  I'm just gonna erase it!"  And I erased my comment.

Haven't been cancelled yet.  But this trying to be a social person doesn't seem to be working out.