My dear readers! I do apologize, but what could I do? Certainly I could not be caught blogging, so the best I could do was to quickly sign off.
I suppose you are all wondering what happened with Thor. Well I will get back to that in a bit. I have to talk a little bit about food. Really. I do.
So for lunch, tamales from Costco were served. And they were quite good, even if they were chicken (I am prejudiced against anything chicken.) I had a beer with the tamale. It made me feel very full, this beer and this tamale. So I napped.
Up from the nap, I found a small carton of Skinny Cow (TM) Caramel Cone in the freezer, which I devour. For diet ice cream, it is sublime. I am on vacation and will deny myself nothing! Creamy vanilla with streaks of caramel and crunchy cone bits! SO yummy. Like Thor would describe me.
When he finished bathing me he carried me into the bedroom and set me gently down on the bed. He wore a towel around his waist, and I wore one on my hair.
"You are adorable," he said, kissing me, his hands on my hips, he pried my legs open and began kissing my breasts, and then my stomach and then my thighs. "Beautiful", he said, his finger gently pressing on my little blonde poof and this his tongue swirled over my pudenda, his finger inside me.
"Is that one or two?"
"Just one."
"It feels like two," I tell him.
"Just one," he pulls it out and licks it. And with that, he gets down to the business of making Miss Hilda come. And not quietly. At which point, he brings his cock up to my entrance and pushes. "Oh." he says, pulls out and his mouth is back on me. "Wetter," he says and tries again. And we are fucking. It's glorious.
When he is finished, he tells me he loves me.
Of course he does.
How could he not?
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Thor's Pizza
He came back carrying a box. And inside the box was the most heavenly pizza ever. The crust was paper thin, like phyllo dough, the sauce a sweet and spicy tomato and the toppings were very fresh.
"Where'd you get this?" I asked my mouth full and my eyes full of wonder.
"My sister made it," he said.
"Your sister?"
"Yeah. I kind of told her about you. But she was already a fan."
"Oh. Okay. I didn't know I was that famous."
"Well, not as famous I am!" he laughed.
"True, dat."
He paused between bites, "You have the most beautiful eyes. Kind of like-"
"Frog," I interrupt.
"Frog?"
"Yes, I have frog colored eyes."
"Well, frog or not, I like 'em." He kissed and poof, all of sudden we were outside. It was a warm summer night and we were in a pond of cool water. "Kiss me," he said, hold my naked body next to his. His mouth fit perfectly on mine and he concentrated fully. "And now," he said, another poof of smoke and we were in a hot shower, his hands soaping me all over.
"Oh, Thor!" I ran my fingers over his nipples, made sure they were rinsed and then sucked on them.
"You know, I'm gonna have to return fire on that," he said as he carefully rinsed me off and began licking my beautiful bubble gum colored nipples. "Damn, you taste so good."
"Well, you DID just wash me.
Dammit. They are home. Must go.
"Where'd you get this?" I asked my mouth full and my eyes full of wonder.
"My sister made it," he said.
"Your sister?"
"Yeah. I kind of told her about you. But she was already a fan."
"Oh. Okay. I didn't know I was that famous."
"Well, not as famous I am!" he laughed.
"True, dat."
He paused between bites, "You have the most beautiful eyes. Kind of like-"
"Frog," I interrupt.
"Frog?"
"Yes, I have frog colored eyes."
"Well, frog or not, I like 'em." He kissed and poof, all of sudden we were outside. It was a warm summer night and we were in a pond of cool water. "Kiss me," he said, hold my naked body next to his. His mouth fit perfectly on mine and he concentrated fully. "And now," he said, another poof of smoke and we were in a hot shower, his hands soaping me all over.
"Oh, Thor!" I ran my fingers over his nipples, made sure they were rinsed and then sucked on them.
"You know, I'm gonna have to return fire on that," he said as he carefully rinsed me off and began licking my beautiful bubble gum colored nipples. "Damn, you taste so good."
"Well, you DID just wash me.
Dammit. They are home. Must go.
Carr's Water Crackers (TM)
I have become obsessed with Carr's Water Crackers (TM). They are all I want to eat. Just plain. In the same way that all I would eat is Caesar Salad, except that I have recently, in my travels come upon some pretty shitty Caesar Salads, which have, in effect, put me "off my tea", so to speak.
The first night home, my mother made a chicken to eclipse all chickens. It was served with REAL mashed potatoes, gravy and mixed vegetables. Everything was profoundly delicious. I was somewhat drunk on the beer that I had gone into town to purchase, and a rum and Coke (TM) -yes, I had also needed to purchase the Coke (TM) as well. It was fortunate that the grocery in town stocked the Mexican Cokes (TM) that I am fond of.
For those of you in the Continental United States who don't know what a Mexican Coke(TM) is, let me enlighten you: it's a Coke(TM) made with real sugar instead of HFC. Apparently they don't make them HERE, in the United States, so we have to import them from Mexico. Lah!
So I have been moldering quietly here in the house, slowly smothering to death from the constant company of my parents. Not that they're bad people. It's just that, I need time to be alone. And it's tricky since they rarely leave the house.
In other news, I have nothing to report on the boy who never will be at this moment because my mind is elsewhere. It's on Thor, you know, the one with the big black truck?
When he left me, he told me how much he liked hugging and kissing me. It felt as if he had a whole stack of loneliness heaped up inside of him that my hugs served to dissipate.
I told him I'd be writing of him, and he requested I turn him into a pizza guy.
"How cheesy!" I said.
"Very punny," he grinned.
"You're a demi-god and you want to deliver pizza?"
"Yeah." He breathed on me and then lifted my chin up so he could kiss me.
"Well, I suppose I could have you arrive WITH a pizza."
"But you don't really like pizza, do you?"
"Most pizza is like cardboard with burnt cheese," I said, "plus, bad carbs and all."
He hugged me and held me close, "You're funny. And you're so cute." His phone chimed. "Dammit."
"I know, the work of a demi-god is never done."
He shook his head. "And I have to do my own IT. You wouldn't believe the people I have to work with. Or rather the dearth of."
"Can't you hire some people?"
"Not my department, darlin'." He pulled me onto his lap. "I'll be back in an hour. And when I return.."
"When you return," I turned over, straddling him, touching my fingers to his earlobes, licking the gap between his two front teeth and kissed him throughly.
"Yeah. That." He disappeared in a puff of smoke, only to briefly reappear, "Pizza? IF it's good pizza?"
"Okay."
To be continued...
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
The first night home, my mother made a chicken to eclipse all chickens. It was served with REAL mashed potatoes, gravy and mixed vegetables. Everything was profoundly delicious. I was somewhat drunk on the beer that I had gone into town to purchase, and a rum and Coke (TM) -yes, I had also needed to purchase the Coke (TM) as well. It was fortunate that the grocery in town stocked the Mexican Cokes (TM) that I am fond of.
For those of you in the Continental United States who don't know what a Mexican Coke(TM) is, let me enlighten you: it's a Coke(TM) made with real sugar instead of HFC. Apparently they don't make them HERE, in the United States, so we have to import them from Mexico. Lah!
So I have been moldering quietly here in the house, slowly smothering to death from the constant company of my parents. Not that they're bad people. It's just that, I need time to be alone. And it's tricky since they rarely leave the house.
In other news, I have nothing to report on the boy who never will be at this moment because my mind is elsewhere. It's on Thor, you know, the one with the big black truck?
When he left me, he told me how much he liked hugging and kissing me. It felt as if he had a whole stack of loneliness heaped up inside of him that my hugs served to dissipate.
I told him I'd be writing of him, and he requested I turn him into a pizza guy.
"How cheesy!" I said.
"Very punny," he grinned.
"You're a demi-god and you want to deliver pizza?"
"Yeah." He breathed on me and then lifted my chin up so he could kiss me.
"Well, I suppose I could have you arrive WITH a pizza."
"But you don't really like pizza, do you?"
"Most pizza is like cardboard with burnt cheese," I said, "plus, bad carbs and all."
He hugged me and held me close, "You're funny. And you're so cute." His phone chimed. "Dammit."
"I know, the work of a demi-god is never done."
He shook his head. "And I have to do my own IT. You wouldn't believe the people I have to work with. Or rather the dearth of."
"Can't you hire some people?"
"Not my department, darlin'." He pulled me onto his lap. "I'll be back in an hour. And when I return.."
"When you return," I turned over, straddling him, touching my fingers to his earlobes, licking the gap between his two front teeth and kissed him throughly.
"Yeah. That." He disappeared in a puff of smoke, only to briefly reappear, "Pizza? IF it's good pizza?"
"Okay."
To be continued...
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Monday, December 24, 2012
All I Want for Christmas is You..
is the title of a trashy little romance novel that I enjoyed last night before retiring. True, it wasn't the hottest sexiest book ever, but it was enjoyable in a predictable little way. But it made me think. OR rather, the thought of "all I want for Christmas is you" was what led me to the book in the first place.
You my dear reader, are waiting, no doubt with bated breath, hoping against hope that perhaps I mean you, as an individual. But how could I know who anymore? And fantasy is just that, fantasy, and you, as my fans, have to accept that, like it or not.
"There's a boy, I know, he's the one I dream of.." (gotcha again, another Whitney Houston riff). Lol. Oh wait. Does she sing the "All I Want for Christmas is You" song? Anyway, I absolutely do not know this boy except that he works in a shop I frequent. And by this point, I believe I have said enough. And am about to lead you back to what actually happened today and not what could never happen with this boy.
I was driving home. And I got the brilliant idea to call a certain someone that I'm longing to see..(I am full of riffs today), half this column could have been sung.
I called. He came. And we had lunch. And after lunch-he kissed me. And it was hot. Right there in the parking lot, right beside the giant truck that he drives (and no, it's NOT true, he 'ent compensating for anything.) And then he walked me to my car and bade me a safe trip.
When he called this evening I felt so frustrated because the house is so small and everything would be heard. There is NO privacy here. Unfortunately. I told him when they are at church. He said, "Call me then." So I shall. But before I do, I think it only fair to catalogue my desires.
I am hoping the room he selects is posh and that we go after lunch and that we stay there all day and night. Not playing video games. And, am I being coy, my darling readers? How dare I?
I dare.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
(desires soon to be catalogued-am I just too sleepy? Or am I being discreet?!)
You my dear reader, are waiting, no doubt with bated breath, hoping against hope that perhaps I mean you, as an individual. But how could I know who anymore? And fantasy is just that, fantasy, and you, as my fans, have to accept that, like it or not.
"There's a boy, I know, he's the one I dream of.." (gotcha again, another Whitney Houston riff). Lol. Oh wait. Does she sing the "All I Want for Christmas is You" song? Anyway, I absolutely do not know this boy except that he works in a shop I frequent. And by this point, I believe I have said enough. And am about to lead you back to what actually happened today and not what could never happen with this boy.
I was driving home. And I got the brilliant idea to call a certain someone that I'm longing to see..(I am full of riffs today), half this column could have been sung.
I called. He came. And we had lunch. And after lunch-he kissed me. And it was hot. Right there in the parking lot, right beside the giant truck that he drives (and no, it's NOT true, he 'ent compensating for anything.) And then he walked me to my car and bade me a safe trip.
When he called this evening I felt so frustrated because the house is so small and everything would be heard. There is NO privacy here. Unfortunately. I told him when they are at church. He said, "Call me then." So I shall. But before I do, I think it only fair to catalogue my desires.
I am hoping the room he selects is posh and that we go after lunch and that we stay there all day and night. Not playing video games. And, am I being coy, my darling readers? How dare I?
I dare.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
(desires soon to be catalogued-am I just too sleepy? Or am I being discreet?!)
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Big O...
Tire is a shop that sells tires and fixes cars. I happened to be dangerously low on oil when I caromed into their lot. The owner/operator was watching tv. He set his mechanic right on it. And while one was tending to me, another came over and helped. And when I asked what I owed for the fluids they gave me-they put in something else other than oil, which I don't rightly recall, he said it was on the house! Can you believe the excellent customer service? I was out of my mind with oh-my-godded-ness and joy. So of course, even though it's weeks later, I thought it worth mentioning on the blog. If only I could remember WHICH street it was on. *sigh* I'm afraid, my dear readers that my memory for things is only getting worse.
With that,
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
With that,
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Now Extinct at your Local Supermarket: The Onion Bagel
I decided that the hassle of driving down to Einstein's (TM) was just too much. Couple that with the fact that I KNOW they think I'm a bitch. And I am. Thank you. Bitch IS the new black.
I had to go to Best Buy because I THOUGHT my phone was dead. It wasn't. The dude fired it right up. It was really weird. As if there was some cosmic plot to get me out of the house.
Anyway, I decided that since I was out of paper towels, nearly out of toilet paper and that I could always use some more pads, I went to Target (TM). And then to Frye's(TM) in search of an onion bagel.
I went to the freezer section first, thinking of the Lender's (TM) onion bagels I used to enjoy as a child. Well, guess what? They have Lender's bagels, but guess where they are? I dare you. Guess.
They are in the refrigerated section above the eggs. Not with all the frozen breakfast treats, egg sandwiches and waffles-no. They are above the eggs in a totally difference section of the supermarket.
The nice lady at the deli informed me that they don't make onion bagels anymore. "My boyfriend loves them, too," she had said.
"What about organic cream cheese?"
"It's with the tofu and all the other vegan foods at the front of the store."
I knew what she was talking about, so it was there I found the organic cream cheese. The question is: why isn't it with the other cream cheeses?!!! I mean sure, put them THERE, but also have some back where one would FIND cream cheese.
When I got home, I fired up the oven and began to write.
And now? The damn bagel is burnt!!!!
Mother of fuck!
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
I had to go to Best Buy because I THOUGHT my phone was dead. It wasn't. The dude fired it right up. It was really weird. As if there was some cosmic plot to get me out of the house.
Anyway, I decided that since I was out of paper towels, nearly out of toilet paper and that I could always use some more pads, I went to Target (TM). And then to Frye's(TM) in search of an onion bagel.
I went to the freezer section first, thinking of the Lender's (TM) onion bagels I used to enjoy as a child. Well, guess what? They have Lender's bagels, but guess where they are? I dare you. Guess.
They are in the refrigerated section above the eggs. Not with all the frozen breakfast treats, egg sandwiches and waffles-no. They are above the eggs in a totally difference section of the supermarket.
The nice lady at the deli informed me that they don't make onion bagels anymore. "My boyfriend loves them, too," she had said.
"What about organic cream cheese?"
"It's with the tofu and all the other vegan foods at the front of the store."
I knew what she was talking about, so it was there I found the organic cream cheese. The question is: why isn't it with the other cream cheeses?!!! I mean sure, put them THERE, but also have some back where one would FIND cream cheese.
When I got home, I fired up the oven and began to write.
And now? The damn bagel is burnt!!!!
Mother of fuck!
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
Bagel Madness
First off, I want to preface this by saying that, "I AM NOT A BITCH!"
I just want what I want.
And what I want is a perfectly toasted bagel that ISN'T BURNED.
Is that so hard?
Apparently.
Einstein's Bagels (TM) makes a very bagel with lox on it. Which is great. But usually they either burn it, or it's served mostly raw. Every time I go there I have to explain that I don't want it burned or raw. The last time I went, they burned it, so I returned it. And then they were out of onion bagels. Of course. And then the poppy seed one was raw. I just didn't have the heart to return THAT. What a nuisance!
But since the craving today is for an onion bagel with cream cheese, I just don't know. Perhaps I should just buy a frozen bagel pack at Frye's and some organic cream cheese and make it myself. I don't HAVE a toaster, but I reckon I can bake it perfectly in the oven. Which means turning on the oven. Not to be redundant here, but let's go over what it means to turn on the oven. Basically, a lot. And for ONE bagel? I don't know. Perhaps I should risk it and go to Einstein's(TM). Or Starbucks(TM) (NOOOOOO!) I just don't know. Readers?
I just want what I want.
And what I want is a perfectly toasted bagel that ISN'T BURNED.
Is that so hard?
Apparently.
Einstein's Bagels (TM) makes a very bagel with lox on it. Which is great. But usually they either burn it, or it's served mostly raw. Every time I go there I have to explain that I don't want it burned or raw. The last time I went, they burned it, so I returned it. And then they were out of onion bagels. Of course. And then the poppy seed one was raw. I just didn't have the heart to return THAT. What a nuisance!
But since the craving today is for an onion bagel with cream cheese, I just don't know. Perhaps I should just buy a frozen bagel pack at Frye's and some organic cream cheese and make it myself. I don't HAVE a toaster, but I reckon I can bake it perfectly in the oven. Which means turning on the oven. Not to be redundant here, but let's go over what it means to turn on the oven. Basically, a lot. And for ONE bagel? I don't know. Perhaps I should risk it and go to Einstein's(TM). Or Starbucks(TM) (NOOOOOO!) I just don't know. Readers?
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Lane Stark Comes in the Dark
After I left the book club meeting, I was a bit shaken. A vampire. What the fuck? And what was this ability to "toggle" between natures? Truly bizarre. I was angry, to put it simply. He could have just TOLD me, instead he decided to break my heart and then when HE was ready he told me. Well, that was just fucked up. In so many ways.
One of my new favorite foods (yes, I'm changing the subject) is edamame. It's truly delicious and I love it so much. The feel of the tender green beads in my mouth and their carby taste is truly wonderful. I have recently read a book that recommends becoming a vegan. Of course, given my recent and still continuing blood loss, I still continue to consume meat, lest I fade away. At this point, not to startle you, my dear readers, but the truth is, you can see my ribs. And my arms and legs are looking mighty skinny right now. I'm sorry, but my lush form is disappearing as I continue to lose blood at an alarming rate. Another problem is my skin: it's breaking out. I have a great big one right above the left side of my upper lip. It looks like a booger snot on my face. Gross.
I have to confess, I have not really been enjoying food as is my wont. Another thing I've been eating a lot of is pumpkin seeds (salted and crispy..mmm) which I mix with sunflower seeds, which I have begun to crave daily. My chocolate needs have been way down ever since I started using a sunscreen with cocoa butter in it. And then there's the cocoa butter lip gloss. So I guess it's true, you can take nutrients into your skin. I am, sad to say, becoming somewhat indifferent to chocolate. Gasp! I know. Hard to believe, right?
As I write, my hair falls in soft wet waves down my back and around my face. I am standing in my kitchen, as I have no furniture at my disposal for a computer. The computer rests on the small part of the counter by the stove with my cell phone plugged in next to it.
There is a knock at the door.
It's him.
"Hilda."
"Lane."
"Can I come in?"
I sigh, resigned to tolerate him. "Sure."
I am wearing panties. And a pad (of course.)
"You smell incredible," he says.
"Yeah."
He suddenly picks me up and brings me into my room and sets me on the bed. "Do you love me?"
"Oh Jesus!"
"Do you?" His blue eyes look deeply into mine.
I sigh. "All right.
"All right?"
"Yes. Okay. Dammit, Lane!"
His mouth covers me with a kiss and he's off. His hands roam my body and his mouth is all over me and then, he reaches my tiny little blonde fluff. He kisses it and moves his tongue down to my clit, I moan.
"That's it, baby," he says, pulling off my panties and stationing himself between my legs. He begins to suck and suck, his face becoming wet with my blood. "Oh, you taste so good," he says.
I find myself being a bit embarrassed for him. The sucking out of my blood doesn't really do it for me.
"Lick me," I order.
And he does, making me come over and over again, he slurps up every last drop of the blood.
He then rips off his trousers and puts his giant erection inside me, in and out he goes, until he comes and he screams in ecstasy. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he cries and then kisses me.
"I, uh, love you too, Lane," I say. "Now get off me, you're heavy!"
He gets off me and then pulls me to him. "Do you really love me?"
"Yes."
"Then drink from me."
"I will NOT!" I exclaim.
"But it will make you stronger. Make it so you're not so tired all the time."
"Lane, the whole blood drinking thing is just icky. Okay? I accept your vampirism, I accept that you want to drain every last drop out of my tiny vaginy, but I do NOT want to drink any blood, yours or anyone else's."
"But why?"
"Because it's gross, that's why. God. I just. God. Why can't you just be a normal guy?"
"I can be a normal guy. I can toggle, remember?"
"I remember. Now let's have a shower."
We get into the shower and he is tender with me. Against my will, I find myself turning back to him with more passion than I could ever remember mustering.
"Can we do it again?"
"Well, I think I've sucked out all the blood."
"Um, I meant, can we just have sex again. WithOUT the blood?"
His eyes lit up. "Of course! Yes!"
"Will you toggle back to human?"
"Of course. For you, anything," he grinned.
And we did it again. It was different. But still good.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
One of my new favorite foods (yes, I'm changing the subject) is edamame. It's truly delicious and I love it so much. The feel of the tender green beads in my mouth and their carby taste is truly wonderful. I have recently read a book that recommends becoming a vegan. Of course, given my recent and still continuing blood loss, I still continue to consume meat, lest I fade away. At this point, not to startle you, my dear readers, but the truth is, you can see my ribs. And my arms and legs are looking mighty skinny right now. I'm sorry, but my lush form is disappearing as I continue to lose blood at an alarming rate. Another problem is my skin: it's breaking out. I have a great big one right above the left side of my upper lip. It looks like a booger snot on my face. Gross.
I have to confess, I have not really been enjoying food as is my wont. Another thing I've been eating a lot of is pumpkin seeds (salted and crispy..mmm) which I mix with sunflower seeds, which I have begun to crave daily. My chocolate needs have been way down ever since I started using a sunscreen with cocoa butter in it. And then there's the cocoa butter lip gloss. So I guess it's true, you can take nutrients into your skin. I am, sad to say, becoming somewhat indifferent to chocolate. Gasp! I know. Hard to believe, right?
As I write, my hair falls in soft wet waves down my back and around my face. I am standing in my kitchen, as I have no furniture at my disposal for a computer. The computer rests on the small part of the counter by the stove with my cell phone plugged in next to it.
There is a knock at the door.
It's him.
"Hilda."
"Lane."
"Can I come in?"
I sigh, resigned to tolerate him. "Sure."
I am wearing panties. And a pad (of course.)
"You smell incredible," he says.
"Yeah."
He suddenly picks me up and brings me into my room and sets me on the bed. "Do you love me?"
"Oh Jesus!"
"Do you?" His blue eyes look deeply into mine.
I sigh. "All right.
"All right?"
"Yes. Okay. Dammit, Lane!"
His mouth covers me with a kiss and he's off. His hands roam my body and his mouth is all over me and then, he reaches my tiny little blonde fluff. He kisses it and moves his tongue down to my clit, I moan.
"That's it, baby," he says, pulling off my panties and stationing himself between my legs. He begins to suck and suck, his face becoming wet with my blood. "Oh, you taste so good," he says.
I find myself being a bit embarrassed for him. The sucking out of my blood doesn't really do it for me.
"Lick me," I order.
And he does, making me come over and over again, he slurps up every last drop of the blood.
He then rips off his trousers and puts his giant erection inside me, in and out he goes, until he comes and he screams in ecstasy. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he cries and then kisses me.
"I, uh, love you too, Lane," I say. "Now get off me, you're heavy!"
He gets off me and then pulls me to him. "Do you really love me?"
"Yes."
"Then drink from me."
"I will NOT!" I exclaim.
"But it will make you stronger. Make it so you're not so tired all the time."
"Lane, the whole blood drinking thing is just icky. Okay? I accept your vampirism, I accept that you want to drain every last drop out of my tiny vaginy, but I do NOT want to drink any blood, yours or anyone else's."
"But why?"
"Because it's gross, that's why. God. I just. God. Why can't you just be a normal guy?"
"I can be a normal guy. I can toggle, remember?"
"I remember. Now let's have a shower."
We get into the shower and he is tender with me. Against my will, I find myself turning back to him with more passion than I could ever remember mustering.
"Can we do it again?"
"Well, I think I've sucked out all the blood."
"Um, I meant, can we just have sex again. WithOUT the blood?"
His eyes lit up. "Of course! Yes!"
"Will you toggle back to human?"
"Of course. For you, anything," he grinned.
And we did it again. It was different. But still good.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
The Mater, the Pater and the Terminator (of periods)
It was a Thursday. I like Thursdays because I get to leave early (relatively speaking). After 20 days of NOT bleeding, it began again. Luckily I had been paranoid to constantly (usually) remember to wear a panty liner! Noting that it was "starting", I hightailed it to my purse for one of those "over night" type pads that I wear. You see, the flow is so heavy that it would be ridiculous to buy any other kind.
The technology of padding has changed significantly since I was a child. Now there are pads that, if I am correct, are filled with a powder, that changes to a gel upon contact with anything wet. The wetness being my brilliantly colored blood that seeps out of me in great spurts. My observation? It's a wiley red liquid. It WANTS to get all over my panties and my sheets. It's motto is: "anywhere but the pad!"
On Friday, the pain was so intense that I had to bend and clutch my stomach to reliever it. After a bit, the pain subsided, but the flow did not. I had 3 pads packed in my purse AND a super tampon, plus I had come to work wearing a pad (an "overnighter" to be sure). I used up every single one and barely made it home by 5:30. Heavy.
In other news, my car needed a little work so Lane called to offer me the assistance of his chauffeur. (He had heard from Agnes that I needed a ride.) I politely declined because I didn't want the embarrassment of arriving at work in a limo. Sure, I know, some people might be pretty proud to show up like that, but Lane's wealth had always embarrassed me a little bit, so I bit the bullet and rented a car to the tune of 130 dollars for two days. Over all, with my new job, I supposed I could afford it, but what rankled the most was that I COULD HAVE SEEN LANE and I chose not to. I chose to show him that I didn't need him. Except that I did. More than ever. And I wondered if he was suffering too.
On Friday, I came home and collapsed. I was exhausted. And bleeding. I took an iron tab from the bottle my mother had given me.
"You've lost a lot of blood," she had said. "Here, take these." So I took the entire bottle home with me.
And the doctor (yes, I now have health insurance) told me to take two a day.
Given that iron poisoning is pretty prevalent in the US, I have decided to take the supplements ONLY when I'm bleeding. Which, as far as I know, might be indefinitely.
At the book club that evening, Lane approached me. He was pale and instead of ignoring me, or trying to talk to me, he just came up to me and held me.
"Smells good," he said, releasing me.
"What?"
"You smell really good."
"Oh, Lane. I smell like a stevedore." And it was true, I did. When my time is upon me, I need at least 3 showers a day to feel like I don't stink.
He just shook his head. "Can we talk?"
"Um, okay," I said.
He took my hand and led me out to the patio, where everyone was smoking. He guided me over to a bench that was away from everyone else and took a deep breath.
"What is it?" Fear rankled in my chest. He had something horrible to say, I could sense it.
"All these months, apart, I-"
"What is it?"
"I have to tell you something. I mean. First, do you love me?"
"What kind of question is that?" I snapped. "Do you have any idea how much you hurt me? Do you even know?"
He hung his head.
"That's right. I've been crying and crying and nothing seems to make it better. Not even that idiot I slept with had any effect."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"I tried to get over you, I tried. I really tried." I burst into tears. "I felt nothing for him, but I hoped that being with him with help reset me, get me back to where I was before we even met, but it just made it worse." I glared at him through my tears, "And yes, I DO love you. More than I've ever loved anyone."
"I love you too," he said quietly. "I'm sorry I drove you to that."
"Well. You did," I stated plainly.
"Did he use a condom?"
"Yes," I giggled. "In fact, while he was out in search of, I nearly got dressed an left. I was that NOT into him."
"I wish you had."
"Me too."
"Well, it doesn't matter anyway. What I have to tell you has been nagging at me, ever since I knew that I loved you. I mean," he paused, "I tried not to love you, but it didn't do any good. I kept thinking about you. Couldn't stop."
"Why didn't you ever tell me you loved me?"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Well, the man has to say it first."
He laughed. "All right. I'll say it, Hilda, I love you. I love you more than you could possibly fathom. I love you so much it hurts. It hurts," he paused, "it really does hurt."
"I know."
"I cried too, you know."
"So why did you break up with me in the first place?"
"Well, it's about my secret. It's not that I couldn't trust you. It wasn't that," he shook his head.
"Well?"
"It's complicated."
"Really? Enlighten me."
"All right, but you might not quite believe me and you might get mad-and I, I don't want to lose you forever."
"Spill it, Stark."
"I'm a vampire."
"You're a vampire?!"
"Yes."
"Okay. Granted we live on the edge of reality in a land dubbed Fictionata, but seriously? I mean is there nothing sacred these days? Does every fictional piece have to descend down to this lower level? Does it really?"
He gave me a sheepish smile. "I can smell you right now. I can smell the blood. Let me help you get rid of all that stuff. I know about all the pads and tampons you have to use and the worry of getting it all over everything. Let me just suck it out of you, so you won't have to worry. Plus, you taste so good."
I gave him a look.
"What?"
"Are you serious?"
"I am serious! I'm a vampire. Mostly."
"Mostly?"
"Yeah. I can toggle between human and vamp. Kind of cool, right?"
"You sicken me."
"You just said you love me."
"Oh Lane. Oh Lane, you are seriously pathetic."
I sighed. For some reason, he didn't appeal to me anymore. Somehow his revelation had turned my stomach in an unheard of direction: for whatever reason, I was now, finally and forevermore OVER Lane Stark.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
The technology of padding has changed significantly since I was a child. Now there are pads that, if I am correct, are filled with a powder, that changes to a gel upon contact with anything wet. The wetness being my brilliantly colored blood that seeps out of me in great spurts. My observation? It's a wiley red liquid. It WANTS to get all over my panties and my sheets. It's motto is: "anywhere but the pad!"
On Friday, the pain was so intense that I had to bend and clutch my stomach to reliever it. After a bit, the pain subsided, but the flow did not. I had 3 pads packed in my purse AND a super tampon, plus I had come to work wearing a pad (an "overnighter" to be sure). I used up every single one and barely made it home by 5:30. Heavy.
In other news, my car needed a little work so Lane called to offer me the assistance of his chauffeur. (He had heard from Agnes that I needed a ride.) I politely declined because I didn't want the embarrassment of arriving at work in a limo. Sure, I know, some people might be pretty proud to show up like that, but Lane's wealth had always embarrassed me a little bit, so I bit the bullet and rented a car to the tune of 130 dollars for two days. Over all, with my new job, I supposed I could afford it, but what rankled the most was that I COULD HAVE SEEN LANE and I chose not to. I chose to show him that I didn't need him. Except that I did. More than ever. And I wondered if he was suffering too.
On Friday, I came home and collapsed. I was exhausted. And bleeding. I took an iron tab from the bottle my mother had given me.
"You've lost a lot of blood," she had said. "Here, take these." So I took the entire bottle home with me.
And the doctor (yes, I now have health insurance) told me to take two a day.
Given that iron poisoning is pretty prevalent in the US, I have decided to take the supplements ONLY when I'm bleeding. Which, as far as I know, might be indefinitely.
At the book club that evening, Lane approached me. He was pale and instead of ignoring me, or trying to talk to me, he just came up to me and held me.
"Smells good," he said, releasing me.
"What?"
"You smell really good."
"Oh, Lane. I smell like a stevedore." And it was true, I did. When my time is upon me, I need at least 3 showers a day to feel like I don't stink.
He just shook his head. "Can we talk?"
"Um, okay," I said.
He took my hand and led me out to the patio, where everyone was smoking. He guided me over to a bench that was away from everyone else and took a deep breath.
"What is it?" Fear rankled in my chest. He had something horrible to say, I could sense it.
"All these months, apart, I-"
"What is it?"
"I have to tell you something. I mean. First, do you love me?"
"What kind of question is that?" I snapped. "Do you have any idea how much you hurt me? Do you even know?"
He hung his head.
"That's right. I've been crying and crying and nothing seems to make it better. Not even that idiot I slept with had any effect."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"I tried to get over you, I tried. I really tried." I burst into tears. "I felt nothing for him, but I hoped that being with him with help reset me, get me back to where I was before we even met, but it just made it worse." I glared at him through my tears, "And yes, I DO love you. More than I've ever loved anyone."
"I love you too," he said quietly. "I'm sorry I drove you to that."
"Well. You did," I stated plainly.
"Did he use a condom?"
"Yes," I giggled. "In fact, while he was out in search of, I nearly got dressed an left. I was that NOT into him."
"I wish you had."
"Me too."
"Well, it doesn't matter anyway. What I have to tell you has been nagging at me, ever since I knew that I loved you. I mean," he paused, "I tried not to love you, but it didn't do any good. I kept thinking about you. Couldn't stop."
"Why didn't you ever tell me you loved me?"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Well, the man has to say it first."
He laughed. "All right. I'll say it, Hilda, I love you. I love you more than you could possibly fathom. I love you so much it hurts. It hurts," he paused, "it really does hurt."
"I know."
"I cried too, you know."
"So why did you break up with me in the first place?"
"Well, it's about my secret. It's not that I couldn't trust you. It wasn't that," he shook his head.
"Well?"
"It's complicated."
"Really? Enlighten me."
"All right, but you might not quite believe me and you might get mad-and I, I don't want to lose you forever."
"Spill it, Stark."
"I'm a vampire."
"You're a vampire?!"
"Yes."
"Okay. Granted we live on the edge of reality in a land dubbed Fictionata, but seriously? I mean is there nothing sacred these days? Does every fictional piece have to descend down to this lower level? Does it really?"
He gave me a sheepish smile. "I can smell you right now. I can smell the blood. Let me help you get rid of all that stuff. I know about all the pads and tampons you have to use and the worry of getting it all over everything. Let me just suck it out of you, so you won't have to worry. Plus, you taste so good."
I gave him a look.
"What?"
"Are you serious?"
"I am serious! I'm a vampire. Mostly."
"Mostly?"
"Yeah. I can toggle between human and vamp. Kind of cool, right?"
"You sicken me."
"You just said you love me."
"Oh Lane. Oh Lane, you are seriously pathetic."
I sighed. For some reason, he didn't appeal to me anymore. Somehow his revelation had turned my stomach in an unheard of direction: for whatever reason, I was now, finally and forevermore OVER Lane Stark.
I remain,
Hilda Stinson
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