Diary of a Sex-Starved Pseudo-Mennonite, Part 52

I'm going to Vegas with my former stripper. Why am I trying to get him back on the pole? Actually, Vegas was his idea. I've been meaning to go there for 2 years and suddenly it's happening. 

When I told Val I was hosting a girls-only housewarming slumber party he immediately said "So I'm the entertainment..." grinning and dancing from the waist up seated at our diner booth. What's so great about him is I don't have to ask. He just plucks the thoughts from my brain and serves them up to me on a sparkling chatter platter.

In reality Val will be working a non-pole for most of the party, so it really will be just us girls. I can't wait to gorge on junk food and pretend to smoke cigarettes and dance and do makeovers and laugh cuz boyz so stoopid. 

What an unwoke fella needs is a prosperous bull dyke to teach him how to be a man.

I am a living, breathing, winning lottery ticket. I am infinite. I'm a writer. I am always working, especially when I look like I'm not doing shit. My work is a theatre of ideas. Buy a ticket and enjoy the show.

I am a lightworker. I show up in peoples' lives when they need me and turn on the lights. Some folks walk into the light at varying speeds and gaits. Some run and hide. Others kick me to the curb. The worst try to control and dim my light. Which are you?

I am so powerful right now that this retrograde has barely made me flinch. If I can do all this in a post-eclipse mercury retrograde, what can I do when it's over? 

Drink beer on the beach. I reckon.

Until Next Time, Sweeties!

Ness Sweet Ness