justjess84 replied to your photoset: looka mee! I is somewhat purrdy :D yes duck…
That’s not duck face, your pointing at us!!! LOL
lol! :D
it’s not too prominent and it’s matte so i love that i can either layer it or add a gloss and make it sparkle. larv eet!
looka mee! I is somewhat purrdy :D
yes duck face, i’m in love with purple lemme alone! :D
I bought a purple lipstick today!!!! webcam face spam coming up! :D
Day 3
So I’m not going to work today, but it’s still a journey isn’t it? More so I’m really enjoying these notes. Turns out I not only have favourite positions in a carriage, I also have a favourite carriage! This would be a good time for anyone to shake their head and write my case off as desperately sad and beyond help. But you can’t! So I feel good. *insert smiley face here*
When I got on the platform today, the first person I saw was a mom wearing knock-off uggs, huge earrings holding a buggy (pram), nothing interesting here, moving on. The second person I saw made me howl with laughter in my head. He looked like comic bookstore guy from the Simpson. Seriously long shaggy dirty blonde hair, over weight, glasses (ok comic bookstore guy didn’t wear glasses or dress in all black everything) but he had giant head phones on - the type you know cost a fortune but still look basic, had an iPad and was wearing a graphic tee.
Of course I followed him into his carriage to stalk him some more. I’m sitting here adjacent to him, smiling away as I steal glances at him while comic bookstore guy’s voice reads words to me in my head.
Ok let me leave comic bookstore guy and tell you about the people around me. There’s a man with THE most striking pair of blue eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. They’re not exceptionally blue nor is he exceptionally handsome. If anything, he’s a softly greying mid thirties - early forties year old man. He’s dressed very casually, American casually - blue jeans, jogging/running trainers, back pack, north face parka jacket and a rubber digital watch but his eyes…. They’re like a crystal clear blue still lake with a bottomless pool of the darkest midnight blue in the middle.
Quick change of trains (I got on the train going towards my destination but branches off at some point). Ha! What are the odds? I recognised a face on the new train! Doubt he did mine though, but that sure made me smile for half a second. Our lives aren’t so random after all
Return journey
Surely it must be a crime to stink so much that I have to change my seat! Ok maybe he didn’t stink that much, but my nostrils are extremely sensitive! Ugh! Between the stench and trying to fiddle with my bloody earphones (they seem to have internal contact issues) I didn’t take that much notice of the people in the carriage with me.
*Seriously, you don’t know frustration till one earphone stops working, then you have contact issues, then it fucking stops working altogether all in the duration of one less that two hour ride. Grrrrrr! I was so frustrated this evening.
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Holy shit! y’all aint told me aunt ‘tina got her picture up finally?!!!!?? grrrr! i see beautiful wummenz everywhere!!!!!
aww, who wants to talk to me? i’m bored, just finished a giant mug of red wine and feeling friendly. who??????
"She had stayed a virgin so she wouldn’t be called a tramp or a slut; had married so she wouldn’t be called an old maid; faked orgasms so she wouldn’t be called frigid; had children so she wouldn’t be called barren; had not been a feminist because she didn’t want to be called queer and a man-hater; never nagged or raised her voice so she wouldn’t be called a bitch… She had done all that and yet, still, this stranger had dragged her into the gutter with the names that men call women when they are angry."
— Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe (via anuraglahiri)
(via fumblingtowardshappiness)
Day 2
Got to the station 9 minutes later today (I was over 20 minutes early yesterday), raced down the escalators to find a crowd quite comparable to those seen on Monday mornings between 7-9 am. I am a few stops from the beginning of the line and carriages were filled to capacity already. I thought to myself it was going to be one of those seemingly everlasting rides to central London (where most crowds generally dispersed). I stood ‘till the next stop. An older lady came on a few stops later and I debated with myself if I should offer her my seat or ignore her - after all she was backing me anyway. I offered her my seat and she declined. Resigning myself to fate that this journey would be a very quiet and un eventful one I was proven wrong when a class of toddlers along with their minders came into the carriage. The universe must be trying to get me pregnant because as all the kids kept on fidgeting about, trying to get seats while their teachers/minders tried to get them to stand still all I could think deep down inside my head was “awwwww, how cute”. One stood very close to me and I was only aware how much I was smiling when I tried to stop smiling. He had brown eyes with the platinum blonde hair that is common with children. Shame they had to leave after two stops. An announcement came on that we’d have to change trains and I groaned inwardly. I hate changing trains, the only joy I get from my long journey to and from work is the respite that I’d be sat in the same seat for the duration of the journey. Thankfully I didn’t have to wait long for the replacement train but as soon as I sat in my new seat, a sudden wave of lethargy washed over me and I really considered calling in sick ‘cos I wasn’t ready to fake a cheery attitude at work. It was a very dreary and overcast day.
Return journey
I couldn’t get on the train fast enough. I heaved a very contented sigh of relief upon realising the entire carriage was empty. I realised today I have a favourite seat. I was slowly getting lulled into dis interest with my immediate environment by the sounds of the train carriages as they bumbled on along the tracks when I caught whiff of something in the air. instantly the cacophony of chatter from the passengers - both in English and other non discernible languages and the scent transported me back to a moment spent in Damascus Syria. I distinctively remembered the various languages spoken by the people surrounding me that day and the way the voices rode over me like a tide - loud and foreboding and soft and calm all seemingly at once. No sooner had I made a connection to the moment and I snapped back to reality, I was confronted with the silence enveloping the carriage. It felt like all at once every one in the carriage took a huge sigh and was lost in their own individual day dreams. The moment lasted till the next stop. I kept my eyes peeled but I never caught a sight of ex-lookalike nor tall financial type. Maybe they did come on the train and I missed them while I was day-dreaming, I did almost miss my stop after all….
On Hands At the Throat.
There is something about a hand placed at the throat. Many would look at this picture and recoil in shock, feeling that this is a violent, sadistic, evil act. Only those who have been here or craved this kind of experience can see a much different portrait.
We each have our own interests and limits here with the dance on the fringe. I love to take my girl by the throat, but I get no pleasure from choking or breath play. I am ever vigilant about my girl’s safety, and I am very cautious about delicate anatomy here.
For me - my hand to her throat is all about control, intensity, and erotic pleasure. My girl loves this stark contrast to the vanilla world and hesitant, timid men in her past. She loves the immediate command, the control, and the clear direction of her body - where she goes and what she does.
I will grasp her by the throat while I strip her, cuff her, probe her, kiss her, fondle her, or fuck her. That last sentence made me smile, because I usually do all of the above. And I absolutely love the way she whimpers, moans, sings to me, and wets for me as we go.
This is the exchange of power. This is the dance on the fringe.
*remembers previous conversation*
*sips tea*
for the gentleman…
(Source: ameliastrehler)
Playing With Telemarketers
- I was at home the other night in the middle of my dinner when the phone rang.
- ME: Hello.
- AT&T: Hello, this is AT&T.
- ME: Is this AT&T.
- AT&T: Yes, this is AT&T ...
- ME: This is AT&T.
- AT&T: Yes, this is AT&T ...
- ME: Is this AT&T.?
- AT&T: Yes! This is AT&T, may I speak to Mr. Byron, please?
- ME: May I ask who is calling?
- AT&T: This is AT&T.
- ME: OK, hold on.
- At this point I put the phone down for a solid 5 minutes thinking that, surely, this person would have hung up the phone. I ate my salad. Much to my surprise, when I picked up the receiver, they were still waiting.
- ME: Hello?
- AT&T: Is this Mr. Byron?
- ME: May I ask who is calling, please?
- AT&T: Yes, this is AT&T ...
- ME: This is AT&T?
- AT&T: Yes, this is AT&T ...
- ME: The phone company.
- AT&T: Yes, sir.
- ME: I thought you said this was AT&T.
- AT&T: Yes, sir, we are a phone company.
- ME: I already have a phone.
- AT&T: We aren't selling phones today, Mr. Byron. We would like to offer you 10 cents a minute, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year.
- ME: Now, that's 10 cents a minute, 24 hours a day?
- AT&T: (getting a little excited at this point by my interest) Yes, sir, that's right! 24 hours a day!
- ME: 7 days a week.?
- AT&T: That's right.
- ME: 365 days a year.?
- AT&T: Yes, sir.
- ME: I am definitely interested in that! Wow!!! That's amazing!
- AT&T: We think so!
- ME: That's quite a sum of money!
- AT&T: Yes, sir, it's amazing how it adds up.
- ME: OK, so will you send me checks weekly, monthly or just one big one at the end of the year for the full $52,560; and if you send an annual check, can I get a cash advance?
- AT&T: Excuse me?
- ME: You know, the 10 cents a minute.
- AT&T: What are you talking about?
- ME: You said you'd give me 10 cents a minute, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. That comes to $144 per day, $1008 per week and $52,560 per year. I'm just interested in knowing how you will be making payment.
- AT&T: Oh, no, sir. I didn't mean we'd be paying you. You pay us 10 cents a minute.
- ME: Wait a minute, how do you figure that by saying that you'll give me 10 cents a minute, that I'll give YOU 10 cents a minute? Is this some kind of subliminal telemarketing scheme? I've read about things like this in the Enquirer, you know.
- AT&T: No, sir, we are offering 10 cents a minute for
- ME: THERE YOU GO AGAIN! Can I speak to a supervisor please?
- AT&T: Sir, I don't think that is necessary.
- ME: I insist on speaking to a supervisor!
- AT&T: Yes, Mr. Byron. Please hold.
- At this point, I begin trying to finish my dinner.
- SUPERVISOR: Mr. Byron?
- ME: Yeah.
- SUPERVISOR: I understand you are not quite understanding our 10 cents a minute program.
- ME: Is This A T &T?
- SUPERVISOR: Yes, sir, it sure is.
- ME: (I had to swallow before I choked on my food. It was all I could do to suppress my laughter and I had to be Careful not to produce a snort.) No, actually, I was just waiting for someone to
- get back to me so that I could sign up for the plan.
- SUPERVISOR: Ok, no problem, I'll transfer you back to the person who was helping you.
- ME: Thank you.
- I was on hold once again and managed a few more mouthfuls. I need to end this conversation. Suddenly, there was an aggravated but polite voice at the other end of the phone.
- AT&T: Hello, Mr. Byron, I understand that you are interested in signing up for our plan.?
- ME: No, but I was wondering - do you have that "Friends and Family"
- thing because I'm an only child and I'd really like to have a little brother...
- AT&T: click........
- LOL i mess with online tutors dasfun too xD
Day 1
Today’s my first shift on my new schedule. I start work at 1:30 and leave home at 11:30. I live and work on the northern line. These are my stories about my journeys. They might not talk about what I see and observe on my travels but they would include all I think about during my over an hour long journey time I spend underground.
I’m a 21 year old girl, and welcome to my life.
I got to the station at 11:58 with the sinking feeling that I would be late. Steel rod of determination to face off with my boss should he query me up my spine, I topped up my oyster and got on the escalator, stood and allowed it to carry me down to my platform. That bit is relevant because I never stand, I run up and down the escalators as their snail speeds make my insides turn.
I got on the train with a mother and her son who was uncannily smart. He couldn’t have been more than 4 years old. He had slightly rosy cheeks a testament to the somewhat milder temperatures 100 ft above, and was bundled up in layers of coats and scarves. His continuous chatter about the colour of the line we were on and the stops made for three minutes of his mother answering questions and trying to restrain him from pressing the door-release button.
They got off a stop later.
As if by clockwork, the three gentlemen sat beside me got into conversation as soon as the boy and his mother got off. From their conversation and dressing, I figured out that they were northern line tube workers. This made me chuckle a bit ‘cos I never see tube workers in their uniform travelling on the underground.
They eventually got off a few stops later. With no source of entertainment or education for me, my mind kept on going back to the conversation I had with a new friend last night. Of particular interest to me were his words “London is a beautiful place when you slow down and look, no one ever does. All they love is the pace of life.” He told me of going to the National gallery, walking to Hyde park, going to Embankment and walking along the Thames.
London is indeed a beautiful place, not only structurally but the views within the city. It’s a city I particularly love traipsing about. I’ve spent hours at museums and galleries, soaking in stories of the past and ideas of those in the present till I was told in whispers that the buildings would be closing in a few minutes. I’ve spent more hours just staring at ingenious window displays around Oxford and Bond streets. I don’t know where I’m going with this train of thought except that It’s a lot of fun running around this city, but finding someone that loves it a lot (and possibly more) like you do is always a nice feeling.
Return journey:
A long and boring day at work followed by a phone call to mom drained me of all possible energy, still I struggled to read the day’s paper. A quick scan of the paper led to a chuckle at the editorial berating society’s heavy reliance on acronyms and a raised eyebrow at how a column talking about girls sewing their “worn to tatters dresses” and discussing the “RSSI” repetitive sex strain injury for the rest of us (I know I know! You can’t make shit like that up) made it into the evening paper, I nodded off for a few stops and woke up to the sounds of a packed carriage with one voice ringing out above the din of the others. Craning my neck (I really just turned my head but the position I had assumed was too comfortable that even turning my head felt like the epic battle of Troy) to see who it was I did a double take. It appeared that my ex had cleaned up well and gained a few much needed pounds in the right areas. Alas it was only someone that looked like him. I kept on stealing glances at him and was only able to catch bits of his conversation to a typical London finance sector type - tall, good looking, scattered mop of dirty blonde hair, chiselled cheek bones, perfect day old stubble with kind eyes.
Kind eyes got off two stops before mine and ex-lookalike got off at my stop. Shame he turned in the opposite direction of my path home.
I’m looking forward to coming back from work tomorrow. I feel one of those hugely successful sitcom stories of boy meets girl in un usual circumstance and develops a friendship in the works.
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I started a new shift at work today and a friend suggested i write about my journey. Here’s to him for making me realise my life is marginally interesting. So this is how it’d work. I’d post a story everyday and tag it day on the underground.
(Source: sweethomestyle, via queerhairyvag)