Chronic Ruination

…take away the stuffing and neither one is as good.

Too late for a Thanksgiving blog post? Yeah, probably. It’s not like I really do Thanksgiving anyway. There’s just something about the  federally-recognized deodorizing of  genocide that makes eating a  Turkey marinated in a broth of its own filth and some delicious nitrites  seem a little…silly.

Sometimes I forget all about this blog until I have one of those delicious little experiences that I really can’t tell My boyfriend or best friends.

Like I said, I don’t do Thanksgiving.  I’m not exactly what you would call a cultural preservationist…quite the opposite.  My upbringing was a white-washed one. Still, I’m a huge believer in not doing anything pointless and excessive.

Excessive stands so magnificently well all on it’s own… in the right setting.

Right setting being the operative phrase…

Ever since I moved to TX, rosie has been begging to come visit Me he-r.  I’ve been keeping My distance though.   It’s always fun to make he-r feel worthless and unwanted before I cook up a months-long cocksucker’s dream/nightmare scene for it to try and get out of.  That’s not the case this time though.

That slut and  he-r lobbying pig pen is into some things I conscientiously object to as of late.  Not really going to go into the specifics but if it’s enough to  make Me depart from My Buddhist gone rogue notions of right and wrong, believe Me, it’s bad.   That and I’ve been busy.

Not just the “fuck off” type of busy either. Genuinely busy and occupied trying to figure out what to do with myself during these increasingly awkward post-undergrad years.

My degrees are in Political Science and Journalism. Since bachelor’s degrees are the new high school diploma, the choices are:

1. Be a newsroom production assistant/grunt alongside some 30-something boomerang kid whose parents made them choose between that job or homelessness.
2. Answer a craigslist ad for an account manager position at a self-described “boutique PR Agency”.  Only you realize during the interview that boutique apparently means attic apartment and that Public Relations has been reduced to posting craigslist ads and writing articles on shill sites in the minds of so very many of Atlanta’s small business owners. I never even brought out My writing or press kit samples during that interview out of fear that I’d probably get mugged for them.
3. Set up a few relevant  blogs hoping that they’ll be a great way to showcase  your skills with some of  the more established magazines or newspapers that have an online presence.  Only you realize that everyone in your graduating class, the one before that and the one before that…at universities all around the country had the EXACT same idea!  So you just send all those blogs to an early adsense grave/hell and hope for the best. Awesome.
4. Do the “logical” thing and get a professional degree.  Everyone looks better  on paper with a few letters in front of or behind their name, so I opted to go the law school route.  Law school everyone’s doing it!

Law school…everyone’s doing it.  That’s part of the problem. Everyone from twenty-somethings, out of work 50-somethings  and even a few 60/70-somethings who are cramming for the biggest final of all.

The first group of friends I made when I moved was with a 3L  and her fiance who graduated 3 years ago.  He’s jobless and under a pile of debt from the whole experience.  Not to mention his adderall addiction. Nice.

When My 3L friend introduced Me to him as a 1L, the first thing out of his mouth was: “Now why would you want to go and do a thing like that?”  For three months, it seemed like everywhere I went I’d meet someone who was also in law school or who had graduated a few years ago.  Have I met any successful practicing attorneys?  A few, but that all graduated before I was in the 6th grade!

I’m not into feeding the Sallie Mae machine so I cut the impending six-figure  losses and withdrew.  Ever feel impending doom taken off of your shoulders?  Yeah, that’s how I feel now.  My aunts, especially the one I lived with My last year of high school, are  livid.  Guess they’re going to  have to find some other way to taunt their friends with adult children who are indefinitely camped out in their game rooms and sleeping on air mattresses.  So now I’m just going to travel and fall into something. I’m no fatalist, but I’ve got faith. I’m thinking  the Mecca of that faith is in Oslo.  Going to check kayak.com right now and start planning My pilgrimage.

Signing back into Niteflirt in 2 hrs. In the meantime…

I’m increasingly becoming a Glenn Kessler fan… check out his latest.

Also, to the drive by- tribute mystery slut with the  micropenis  who is more  generous than I’d prefer with the pics: Send this week’s tributes here . I’m full from you, give someone else a chance.

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I just got in…I’m bored…Lines are on…Enough said….

For now

Real entry coming soon…

and I’m not getting it!!!

Oh yeah, and Happy New Year.

Back to the subject.  I’m so not enchanted with what I’m surrounded with these days.  My friends here in N.O., are too slow…

There’s only so many times u can go out, and 3 out  of 4 in the group agree the night isn’t any good unless you’ve done I Kissed a Girl on karaoke.

The guy I’m dating is too soft…

He wants his own place(he should he’ 24!!) but he’s  too afraid to tell his current roommate that he doesn’t want to renew his lease  because he knows the other guy can’t afford to live alone.  This is the first time I’ve seen this shade of bitch on him, and I can tell you, it’s NOT  a good look!  Doesn’t matter, I’m moving in March anyway.  Next!!

rosie’s new sub-lite mentality is not working for Me; s-he’s officially out as of 5 min ago, I’ll tell it tomorrow during its commute time.  The bitch wants to try and be friends now and My forecast is that it’s going to turn into excuse after excuse not to do what s-he was born to do.   I’m sorry, but when I hear the words,

Please don’t be nice to Me

it doesn’t matter if it was almost 2 years ago when it was said…It was obviously a sincere need and, to Me, it’s one I still think is necessary.  All anyone has in life is their word, their name, and/or their balls…and rosie is more than a little short in the ball dept.  Word trumps wants!  Besides, as friends, u have to be friendly.  What are we going to do?  I guess s-he wants to hold hands, split tiramisu and talk about old times like…

Hey….you remember that time when you came to stay for Memorial Day weekend and *****  made u sleep in My room and I let u sleep in his dog’s old crate with some of My shoes as toys so you’d have My scent and wouldn’t feel so lonely?

Even my favorite stress reliever, Niteflirt is as entertaining. Very few of the sluts are doing it for Me!!

Except for maybe this faggot shampoo boy that’s “two-shades of could be fabulous if…”

AND

This former frat boy all grown up with a slut wife who’s going to get even sluttier thanks to Me!  Oh, and he’s going to get a black boyfriend that’s better than anything even I’ve ever had…I’m going to make sure of it.  he’s going to start buying better panties too.

The usual suspects:

• 30-something, living with Mom,  calling several times in a night from several accts, addicted to stuff they don’t even recognize as addictions  yet.  The type that blow their loads talking about sucking dick then  proceed to try to moonlight as the  morality police on Me for what I do to, mostly, consenting adults

• Couple of nano-dick Asians(surprise surprise!!) that blow their loads then magically turn into winners and achievers …anything but their reality of sticking 50 menus in your door in a weeks time and chanting to Buddha that it doesn’t get soft when they finally get enough tips to make a pilgrimage to their local BangCock Spa.

• Wannabe cuck husbands  that want to fluff but don’t know how to ask their wives…even though her extracurricular sex life is like a lullaby to Me.

• Socially retarded programmer types who have recently discovered the wonders  of a bump and beer and the delicious little world they can create when they have a credit card and a phone.

All I want are more people that are close to My level….that’s ALL!!  I’m getting rid of everything defective in 2009.

• I want 2 or 3 really cute, fun girly boys(26 and older) that want to work REALLY hard to stimulate Me. Thin, smooth skin, smart, fashion sense, or u must REALLY want to earn the training to get those things.

• ONE r0sie-replacement.  Must be 40 or over(Maybe a really exceptional 30ish slut) who appreciates discretion, no priors, no handicaps(the one between your legs is enough for Me)and no DSM-IV stuff.  The “encouragement” rosie required is optional..especially if u have the right mentality. Not sure what being he-r replacement entails?  Read the rest of the blog or email Me at Kara@phonefetishprincesskara.com for specifics.

• Chastity, Cuckold, and Humiliation Money Slaves- 3 only, over 35- I want one scraping by, one very comfortable, and one who thinks the fundamentals of this economy are strong(not because he’s an ignorant Bush-O-McCain-ophile either).  This is going to create a very interesting dynamic . u sluts will all know about each other, but you don’t have to know one another.  u will get ONE “Kara is going to treat Me like a person card” per week and u guys will have to compete for it.   Again discretion must be very important to you,  you must be able to submit to regular tease and denial sessions and other “things” on demand, must have an awesome slave mentality or something absolutely better.  Must not be white trash.

Soooo…. there it is.  That’s what I want.  If u fit the bill,   contact me.  Email, Niteflirt, whatever.

Get My attention?  Get My panties wet?  Get My wet panties?  Get My sweaty leggings after My Bikram Yoga Class?

Simple.  Click one of the buttons to your right..

It’s not a secret to most of you that have stumbled across Me that I don’t believe in the whole male Dom thing. I love guys..real men.  I don’t think most men, even real men,  can effectively have any sort of meaningful control or influence over any sane person with an IQ above, oh I don’t know, dog level.  I’d run out of space if I had to go into all the reasons why I feel this way.

With that said, I’m still not understanding why a guy that probably doesn’t even dabble in the whole D/s thing has so many underfoot and by the balls.  He could buy and sell your ass 100 times and still send you home with a few crisp $20 bills tucked in the same coat  pocket as your jizz covered manties.  So many of you reading this would probably gladly give him your wife or mother for the week(end) in exchange for just ten minutes of  his lips pressed to your ear, guiding your hand up and down…

YOUR INVESTMENT PORTFOLIO!!

Yep, I’m talking about Warren Buffet.  My senior year history teacher refused to acknowledge the fact that Bill Gates was the wealthiest man in the U.S., insisting that Warren Buffet was.  Even after someone wiki’d it and brought an article to class proving  that it wasn’t true,  he spent an ENTIRE class period basically worshiping the man’s O-ring from afar.  I could practically smell the precum dripping from this loser as he wasted the tuition dollars of our parents(legal guardian in my case).  Of all the people to have fag lust for…a 70-something who looks like a geriatric version of the Hamburglar ?!!  Well, I guess it wasn’t too hard to imagine considering the fact that…

The teacher was 28 with a voice that suggested puberty never found his name on the guest list.  He drove a Saturn with extremely misguided pride, and would try seem above it all by telling anyone who would listen that he was only teaching until he was accepted into the Law program at Harvard.  I guess Harvard needs to expedite their admissions process because, nearly three years later, you can still call and ask the secretary to leave a note in his mailbox!! Anyway, I’m getting off of the subject and abusing ellipses…

About 2 months ago, rosie sends me an email saying goodbye.  No surprise there!!  s-he must have a template of those goodbye emails or something because I’ve gotten at least 10 of them before. Chasing “normalcy” around the bedroom he and his wife share with a butterfly net while a plaster of paris mold of my foot is crammed up his ass..that’s the image I get whenever I read one of rosie’s goodbye emails.

I think it’s cute…that whole trying to balance the “he” s-he has to be with the SHE “he” NEEDS to be thing.  It’s always REALLY hard to take seriously ANYTHING said by someone who has a bio on their company’s website that screams how full of integrity and honor they are when you’ve seen them with a face/mouth/ass full of another guy’s load. His favorite thing is…well, I think I’m going to make that an assignment for some lucky sissy who’s up for more than just roleplay.   This is one piece of flesh that can’t  live without that weird feeling in his belly, the lump in his throat and the hint of one in his panties that only I can give.  So I’ve built his goodbyes into our play.  They usually come around the time estimated taxes are due, Christmas, and Easter(Grown men dressed up as bunnies, Cadbury cream eggs, and Jesus jumping out of that tomb seem to have a sobering effect on my fav cock snot wearing manwhore).  It lasts about a week and then we pretend to pretend that it never happened.  I know he’ll be back because I’ll still have total access to one of his bank accounts.

So I just added the email to a folder and printed off a hard copy. I like to read them all out loud one after another when he needs something really badly…just to remind him that his attempts at self-esteem really aren’t a good look for him.  The fun part starts  12-16 hours later with a text message.  asking if I’m busy and if it’s ok for him to call.  I’ll call him…congratulate him on the new man he’s becoming and then the conversation automatically turns into something that sounds like a conversation a battered woman may have with her guy that loves with his fists.  The one where she wants out because daytime tv says she should…but everything inside her is telling her it’s going to be all hearts, stars and four leaf clovers if she can just stop making the fucking pot roast so damn dry!

rosie did an excellent reprisal of the battered wife/martyr role s-he likes to play.  I’d been sitting in line at a gas station forever waiting on gas  when I got the text.  Atlanta was short on gas and I was short on patience when I got the text then called back.  The basics were that s/he couldn’t come out to play anymore, that the economy was looking rough, and s/he had a family to think about. Heard it all before!!  The next thing that came out of its mouth was that it had sent Me a cashier’s checks for $2000 and it would send Me $500 more if I would get rid of everything in its storage unit.  I may be a lot of things but I’m not anyone’s janitor..especially some loser born in the wrong body who thinks he has too much to lose.

I drove 20 min out of My way that day to deliver the storage keys not so personally to the receptionist at his office.  Essentially harmless enough, but I knew he’d wake up in a cold sweat the next couple of nights wondering if I’d said anything to anyone while I was there.

I decided to extend those sleepless nights a little by mailing the cashier’s checks to his workplace…knowing that the administrative assistant opens the mail before delivering it to him.   I got a 3am text 2 days after I’d made my trip to the post office that said

Why are you doing this to me?  Please let me know what I can do to make You stop!!

I text’d back

Nothing

After I woke up at 9 the next morning…I decided to finish my text because I was too  sleepy to do it  the night before

Sorry, that should have said ‘ Nothing bad is happening to you..it’s all in your head…just like it always has been.  Go ahead and change your online banking info, please…for your own peace of mind…take care babes..MUAH!’

That was it…  I was actually a little sad.  Kind of like when u have a fish die…that kind of sad.  I’d decided to take a break from school this semester and the next to focus on some other things I want to do anyway, so that pretty much gave Me the push to get out of Atlanta.

I found someone to sublet and went to New Orleans to work on some projects and just have fun.  The plan was/is to move to L.A. by February…I though it wasn’t going to happen for a while until…

Starting about 3 weeks ago, I got several calls from a number I didnt know in the middle of the day.  I didnt pick up and they didn’t leave a voicemail or anything.  I thought maybe it was some recording telling Me that my car warranty was about to expire or  something until I called it back and heard a very familiar hollow sounding guy on the other end with a horrible southern drawl answer.

First thought:  WTF?  Second thought:  end button!!  It called right back.  Long story short…it was sorry.  It was having a lot of rough times.  It just wanted to talk.  It had apparently been washing it’s klonopin with that bottle that says ‘birthday bourbon’ and calling that its lunch.  I’m no shrink…but I know u dont hang up on “people” like that.  So I just let it run then speed walk through something like a conversation.  I kept calling it by it’s birth certificate name.  It didn’t like that. I didn’t know what else to call it because I really didnt need a rosie anymore and it started crying when I said that.

You don’t hang up on “people” when they’re like that.

So to keep the conversation going, I asked why it had called Me.  Dead silence…

Then it started rambling something about how it had been following Warren Buffet in the news, that things were bad for a lot of people but probably wouldn’t affect things on its end.  I pretty much stopped listening to the babbling just as I had almost 3 years ago in history class.  I can turn a guy who was too scared to do anything but suck dildos dildos in front of prostitutes into a cum-guzzling part-time transvestite that menstruates for Me through its wallet…but Warren really has all the control…and that’s just sad on my part!!