While stuck in an airport, SwingBot sent me a couple of pictures.
As a break from my ranting, enjoy some fun news.
Last week, I read a friend’s blog in which he noted that too-influential-crazy-person Mark Driscoll preached that each woman is made by Driscoll’s god as a home to some particular man’s penis. Yes, really. In case you have not read the excerpt, it is quite full of loopy.
SwingBot was playing a video game with some male friends, including Boobs-in-Face from our Las Vegas trip. BiF, a very heterosexual (and, frankly, somewhat sexist and more than mildly homophobic) man, said of building a team for one game, “SwingBot, OtherFriend, and I are going to form a threesome.”
I ought to be horribly ashamed.
Nearly four months ago, I promised to return in six weeks. Not only did I let that slide, but my only sign of life during that time was whining about losing a free service.
Worse, I finally come to you… with this ugly thing. What is it? It is what happens when a goofball asks an artist with an attitude for a silly illustration. For the record, the penises for arms were **not** my idea, nor was the full-frontal smiley face.
One morning, I stood washing dishes for so long that I failed to notice my left knee lock. (In related news, I really want a service-oriented submissive or slave who might be open to also being a masochist in play.) When I finished and turned around to approach SwingBot, I noticed the stiffness of my knee and muttered a quiet “Ow,” mostly expressing the word through my face. SwingBot surprised me by giving me a light kiss on the lips that seemed to come from nowhere.
SwingBot made us tacos for dinner and he had too much meat left, though not enough to make keeping it worthwhile. After putting some on my taco, he asked, “Do you want any more meat?”
Last Tuesday, after his leftovers caught fire in the oven, SwingBot ordered a pizza for dinner.
As I washed dishes, he approached me from behind and said, “I want to take down your pants and do you from behind right here. But, I have a pizza coming, and the person will just drive right up and see us. Hey, maybe the delivery person is a hot bi co-ed… and could come see us… and, with the pizza, we could get free pepper spray.”
SwingBot was unavailable for last Wednesday’s play date. Since he and I did not find an agreeable set of rules for BG and I to play without SwingBot this time, we canceled the “play” portion. Because BG was in the neighborhood, anyway, he stopped by for dinner and friendly chatter.