My roommate was out of town this past weekend…she said for a karate camp. I had no reason to suspect otherwise given she has been practicing some form of martial arts since she was a teenager. So, we made the usual arrangements for me to watch her pooch and away she went.

I haven’t really seen her much since her return Monday evening, but the little bit I have seen allowed me to notice she had quite a few bruises on her arms. Again, nothing unusual since she was allegedly with her karate buddies for a few days and she’s big on contact sparring. Aside from that, she had some fresh hickeys on her neck, which were also not odd to me since she’s got herself a new man, and also said she may have some “fun” while away.

Last night, however, she revealed she wasn’t at karate camp.

She was at a BDSM sex camp.

Contact sparring and my roommate have a whole new meaning for me now.

I shall spare you some of the sordid details she decided to share with me. Trust me, it’s for the best that way.

Turns out she went with her new guy…and the details came out about how they really met. She first told me they met at a pool party she went to a few weeks back, but the truth is they met via a BDSM listserv. I’m not sure why she didn’t tell me the truth from the get go, she knows I’m not judgmental.

This revelation explains why when I told her about my dream of him physically hurting her, she looked slightly amused. :hmph:

Current Mood: Exhausted

I’ve bitched on MySpace before about the lack of personal hygiene and common courtesy some women on this floor appear to possess, but I swear there are still instances that leave me shocked, speechless and utterly disgusted.

Today would be another one of those times.

Someone else on this floor is having their monthly (the other person would be me, which may be TMI but believe when I say I am clean). Anyway, this other person decided to, shall we say, smear themselves all over one of the toilet seats. I noticed it since the other two were occupied and I had to pee REALLY badly. I can totally see why the other two women opted to use the other toilets. Despite that I always always always use those seat covers or paper towels if the covers aren’t available - as soon as I noticed the mess I walked right back out. As I was trying to control my gag reflex, I did the peepee dance until another stall became available.

More description isn’t really necessary and I apologize if any of my readers have weak stomachs and you may have been eating when you decided to visit my blog. Really, I am. My concern here is… what are these women like in their own homes? Can they really be that disgustingly nasty or does this lack of cleanliness stem from the fact that they know someone else will clean up after them?

Either possibility is disconcerting, if you think about it.

Oh, is it just me or is this a stupid question: I know the office doesn’t honor (insert holiday) but was wondering if there was going to be any discussion regarding (insert holiday)?

For the past two weeks, I’ve been under the impression I had lost my cell phone charger and came to the conclusion I did so at the lake house over Labor Day weekend.

The conclusion didn’t sit well with me since I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that the charger just had to be somewhere I wasn’t looking. I knew I had packed it for the weekend, but I also could not remember needing to use it because I was in the boonies and had no reception, therefore the phone was powered off 98% of the weekend.

Thankfully I have another charger at my office and didn’t run out to spend $40 on a replacement. I kept making mental notes to bring the charger home, but forgot each time (I’m getting old); which led to a battery being completely drained of juice the past two weekends.

Now, it isn’t like I’ve got people burnin’ up my phone with calls or texts, but since it is my only phone the slight panic associated with losing that connection to anyone and their overwhelming desire or need to contact me - along with knowing I couldn’t freely contact anyone for fear of the phone dying - only increased the aforementioned nagging feeling. I had already pulled everything from the bag I used and searched every freakin’ inner compartment it had. Twice.

For reasons unknown to me, as I was sitting comfortably on the couch watching television, I remembered the side pockets on the outside of the bag. Quickly scaling the stairs to my bedroom, I put the bag on my bed, reached to unzipped the first side pocket and plunged my hand inside. Empty. Dammit. Slipping my hand into the second pocket revealed the hidden treasure. As my fingers wrapped around the charging device, a feeling I can only describe as elation flooded through me.

Yep, I was so elated I found my cell phone charger I put the thing to my mouth and kissed it, then raised it to the heavens and thanked God. I’m not even Christian but I suppose I’m not yet in the habit of saying, “Thank Buddha.”

My cell is currently very happily recharging (don’t ask how I know an inanimate object is happy, I just know).

Current Mood: Hungry