Surf's up! We're riding the anxiety wave!

I know that I am not alone when it comes to being an anxiety-ridden ball of... something for the last few months, so this isn't something uniquely mine. But hear me out...

The last few months have been like riding a giant wave, in a storm. I'm waiting for it to crash down on top of me, or shoot me out the end into calm, blue seas...... and NEITHER of those are fucking happening.

To help me deal with stress and anxiety, I plan. I plan and make plans and then do backup plans... it's one of my little quirks that, thankfully, Lady Bourbon finds amusing... or tolerable. When COVID hit, I planned food. I planned supplies. I planned on how to keep us all indoors and possibly sane. It worked. It gave me something to do for a while. 

But now... fuck me, man.

Half the country is going on like it's not a thing, the other half is still locked in their homes waiting... and I don't know how to plan for that. My kids are supposed to be going back to school in like, what? 3 weeks? Do I send them? Do I keep them home? Do I burn down the school and make it less of an option?! (please note: I would never actually burn down the school unless we were invaded and the invading army was using it as their base of operations... then I'd light that bitch up.) 

Seriously... I'm at the end of my fucking rope on what to do here. Lady Bourbon and I have stayed up many nights talking about what to do and when we start these conversations, and there are too many variables. My brain just starts going, "eeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE." And I sort of black out for a minute.

Then we have "The country" and all its woes... and there are a lot of fucking woes, my friends. We have civil unrest across the board. We have white supremacy on the rise in many areas. Our "leadership" uses openly hostile words, tactics, and rhetoric against our own people and, deep down, I fear we're heading for something bad. And by "bad" I mean anything from armed conflict to massive economic collapse.

So I plan. I planned food, again. I planned money. I planned protection. I planned how to keep me and mine safe and protect in case of the worst-case scenario. It worked and gave me something to do for a while. 

But now... fuck me, man. 

Half the country is still rioting to one extent or another, the other half is on Facebook complaining about or congratulating the first half. Cops are bagging people in the streets, rioters are breaking stuff and pulling down statues... and the online fights are just as awful and nowhere is safe... meaning there is no online refuge. Everyone is an opinion-having monster with no love for anyone. Lady Bourbon and I have stayed up many nights talking about what to do and when we start these conversations, and there are too many variables. So my brain starts going, "eeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE." And I sort of black out for a minute.

And there is my problem... I can only plan so much. At some point, I run out of things to plan and prepare for and I am left feeling the weight of all that anxiety... and man, it sucks. You've probably seen my posts on Bug Out Bags and the like. That's what I've been doing for the last 2 months. 

I need something to happen or I need it all to go away... I can't keep up this level of anxiety and planning day-in and day-out without some sort of payoff one way or the other. Like I said before, I'm trying to surf this wave. I'm still surfing this wave... I'm still waiting for something bad to happen and all of this planning to be worthwhile... or I'll pop out of that tube and find myself in the clear again.

The only good thing to come out of ALL of this - aside from leaving my miserable job with Debbie - is that I now have wonderfully stocked first aid kits. I can treat anything from a kids' tiny boo-boo all the way up to a 9" gash down your forearm that needs compression bandages and staples.... And as fucking cool as that is, it's still not the same as just being calm and going on about my day. 

I'm beginning to not know how to handle all of this shit. I'm running out of plans to be made... You can't plan for everything and there are WAY too many possibilities out there that could happen. I guess I could enhance my "oh, sweet Jesus, it's the end of days" plan... or my "North Korea just launched an EMP at the Midwest" plan... but then those plans cost a lot of money, man. I'm not ready to turn my garage into a Faraday cage just yet.... 

I'm not really sure what the point of this post was. I think I just needed a distraction and to put some stuff down on "paper" per se.  Maybe I'm hoping someone will comment and give me something to think about and talk... Maybe I should just write more and take my mind off it all. Maybe I need to finish my post apocalyptic novel I started in 2005... It's just that this is all messing with my sense of reality. My sense of how things SHOULD be. Now, I think abut how things COULD become and it bothers me...

Ah well... How are you dealing with this? Bug out bags and spare food? Books and coffee? Smoke and a pancake? 

What about Bob? Getting ready for Sh*t to hit the fan!

Hello, loyal readers! I'm back! Well, sort of - I never actually left. I've just been busy and haven't updated this blog since fucking JANUARY...

There is a LOT going on in the news these days and a lot of people are throwing out a lot of random terms and paranoia... including, but not limited to civil war, social unrest, economic collapse... you name it, and someone somewhere has said it in the last 60 days.

So today, we're going to talk about Bob - Your potentially life-saving new best friend. Bob stands for Bug Out Bag - and, for those who don't know, a Bug Out Bag is a bag that you keep packed and ready to go by the door, or someplace easily accessible, in case of the worst-case scenario where Shit hits the fan (SHTF) and you need to get the fuck out of town - GTFO.

Not mine - but similar enough for this blog post... 

Now, keep in mind that this is not your "prepper" stash. This isn't the things you have in the bunker to see you through the first 11 weeks of the zombie plague... no no. This is the "We need to GTFO right now and we don't have time to pack" bag. This isn't a camping bag or a hiking bag... this is a bag to buy you piece of mind in the worst case scenario of "I need to leave my home right now or potentially die from a thing."

And you need to go into this with that in mind...

So let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel...

I got this question posed to my by the lovely A.J. Bass (@AnjikoZ) on Twitter the other day and, well, by golly, let's give it the proper love and respect this subject matter deserves, shall we?

The original Tweet reads:

• My so called best friend decided to be a judgmental bitch today. She actually told me that daddy and I should not be having sex in our home (even though kids are fast asleep when we do). All because the way we have sex is like a porn. Now that I'm writing this it's kinda funny.

Leaving aside my issues with calling your sex partner "Daddy" - let's take a look at this.

In our house sex is sometimes soft and gentle, sometimes loud and adventurous, and sometimes quick and dirty. We use sex toys, we occasionally watch porn, we come up with some strange positions so we can both see the tv and get off at the same time.

Shit - last night we did all of the above. 

Let me rewind a bit... I got a text from Lady Bourbon asking "Wanna get naked and watch hentai tonight?" - to which my response was, "like you have to ask!" 

So - once the kids were tucked in and asleep, we got our fuck on.

The television was set to a rather scandalous hentai in which a demon lady feeds on the virginal energy of people in hopes of... something something I don't watch it for the plot. All I know is that this demon lady forces some dude to fuck his friends while other robed figures watch and occasionally participate. 

But I digress... The point is - the kids were asleep and we got busy. At one point, Lady B's legs were up on the coffee table while she masturbated and I stood over her and would put my junk in her mouth repeatedly. Then she reverse-cowgirled me to climax while we both watched the big scene on this show. 

She was spent, I was spent, we were both in need of hydration, and the couch cover needed to be removed and washed... It was awesome.

But some people seem to think this approach to sex is "icky" or "too much" and you should just stick to the missionary position, lights off, and pray to Jesus when you're done. 

FUCK THAT NOISE.

Sex can and SHOULD be a contact sport. And, if you and your partner so choose, it should be adventurous... and in every room of the house. Why limit yourself to the same location, same position, same EVERYTHING every time?!? If you're married, chances are good you're going to be having a lot of sex with the same person for a very long time... it can probably get boring if you do the same thing day in and day out... 

When we first got married and moved in together - we had sex in every room of our townhouse. In our second house, we again did it in every room of the house.... shit, we've done it on a boat, under a boat in the water, on the back patio, on Lady B's sister's patio furniture... We've had gentle, "hold me" sex, we've had "wow, that was different" sex, and we've had "hurry the fuck up and end this" sex... And it's always good. 

If your kids see you having sex, in any position, why does it fucking matter? Humans have sex. It's what we do to procreate. It's what we do to release stress. It's fucking NORMAL AND HEALTHY and people need to understand this. I walked in on my parents a few times as a kid. I turned out normal. My parents had/have sex toys. I think knowing this is what has given me a great respect and healthy understanding of sex. As we all should try to have. 

So have sex. Have fun sex, dirty sex, porn-star sex... and don't be ashamed about it. We have a serious LACK of sexual education in this country and that leads to problems. Raise your kids to be good, decent people with a healthy respect for sex and their sexual partners and everything will be golden. 

So - there you go, AJ. I hope I've answered your question in a round-about way. Make your house look like a Jackson Pollack painting under blacklight and explain to the kids that "well, sometimes mommy and daddy like to get their freak-on."

The duality of being me...

It's been a while since I've written anything longer than a Tweet. It's been a while since I've opened up my brain and let the words pour out...

I feel like doing it today.

Something about this time of year, almost every year, really fucks with my brain. Like, in a big way. I will bounce wildly from perfectly happy to uncontrollably fucked up. And it sucks. It's also when I'm at my... uh... most Bourbonness? I should explain that.

I am very much two distinct people residing within the same body.

I am me... and I am Bourbon.

The normal, everyday me is reserved, cautious, anxiety-filled, and seemingly normal person. I try to watch what I say around others, I keep my thoughts to myself, I interact with people at work whom I despise because it's easier than finding a new job... shit like that. I am guarded on what I say... I try to calculate the best thing to say on tweets, facebook posts, etc... I'm very unassuming.

This is the face I wear in public...

But I am also Bourbon.

This may seem silly to you all, but hang on and I'll try to explain...

One night I was talking to Lady Bourbon and I mentioned a post on Twitter and she replied with, "You or Bourbon?" - and that hit me. Because Bourbon IS me. I am Bourbon. But I tend to only let Bourbon out of the bottle here on my blog or Twitter where I am unknown. So I can see why she said this thing.

The Bourbon-Me generally doesn't give a fuck. I'll say what I want. I'll write smut. I'll talk about all the things I'm not "allowed" to talk about in polite society. I take sexy photos of Lady Bourbon and we have kinky good times in the bedroom... and the living room... occasionally the kitchen... maybe a bathroom at some point... most assuredly the playroom. But I digress... The point is - I wish I could be Bourbon full time. I wish I could not give a fuck. I wish I had the confidence and "no fucks given" attitude that I have here, in the safety of internet anonymity.


But life doesn't work that way.


I have a job. I have a family. I have an obnoxious mother-in-law. I have PTA bullshit... or will have I guess when the kids are a little older. And I can't relearn 40+ years of learned behavior. I mean, I guess I COULD, but am terrified of doing it. I'm terrified of just "letting go" and "being me" out of fear of losing my job or my kids (all worst-case scenario shit - which is my anxiety dual-wield specialty).

I'm so trained in this way that I don't really talk about my anxiety, PTSD, etc on my "normal" accounts all that much. I have no problem sharing on Bourbon because, well, nobody's going to call me out at work for it or other strange shit.

Lady Bourbon and hentai.

I try to talk about Lady Bourbon about this - but she's a fucking rockstar and I don't think she can comprehend this at some levels. She is who she is and that's fucking it. I, on the other hand, was the youngest of 14 in my family (including cousins) and I was always present for the jackassery, but not allowed to participate in it... stuff like swearing, sex-jokes, etc. So I internalized it all. I still do at times. Not her, though, she blazed her own trail and still does. She says what she wants to say and does what she wants to do. I envy her for that. I tend to be overly cautious and second-guess myself all the time. Bourbon does not. Bourbon says "Hey, fuckers, this is me!" - but only because none of you know who I am.

There are two very real, very distinct personalities in me and I want to somehow merge the best of both... but I don't think that's possible. But around this time of year... the Bourbon side seems to come out a little more. I get more sexually aware. I start craving things that aren't the norm. I start having vivid sex dreams and I want Lady Bourbon to do some really sexy things to me/for me... It'll last for a month or two, then slack off... then build back up... then slack off and then it goes away for a while - You'll note that I've not written smut since fucking MARCH... Maybe it's the Winter me? Who the fuck knows. Sometimes it makes me feel like Elsa from Frozen... Trying to wear gloves and conceal that shit, yo...

The point is - I am me... but sometimes I feel MORE like me. And I wish I knew of a good way to mesh the two and become someone else...

So this has been my rambling, what-the-fuck moment for today.





Happy Thursday, fuckers!

Smile for anime butt!

Trouble With The Tradesman's Entrance

Saturday night found Lady Bourbon and me SANS CHILDREN!!

We sat and debated what to do for some time. We could go see Avengers and sit there for three hours - not a bad idea. We could go out to eat, have some drinks, and pretend to be regular adults for a while - also not a bad idea. OR we could get naked, watch some porn, and get a little freaky on the living room floor before going out for drinks and pretending we're adults... WINNER!!!!

Once the kids were safely gone and out of the house I retired to the shower, cleaned myself all over, and put on my sexy underwear - a black lace thing that makes my junk look HUGE... and my favorite skirt.

Then we moved some furniture, poured some drinks, and set back to get things going.

I'd already been sporting a pretty serious hard-on at the thought of not having kids... but now, as Lady Bourbon applied a nice, dark application of eyeliner on me, I was at "already ready to burst" levels. Me wearing eyeliner and black, lace panties has a rather curious effect on Lady Bourbon - and that is she gets SUPER wet. Like... Aquaman levels of wet.

And that shit is hot as FUCK.

As the show started we sat there, sipping or drinks and just "getting in the mood" as it were. Before long, her hand was slowly stroking me through the soft fabric of my skirt and silk... This had 2 results - 1: SO hot. 2: My panties no longer fit.... so they had to go.

She continued.

She wrapped my cock in the fabric of the skirt - it's soft, t-shirt material - and continued to gently stroke me up and down. Then I started rubbing her through her panties and stroking her nipples gently with my tongue from time to time. Our eyes both darting back and forth to the very lewd, very sexual animated porn on our television...

Lady Bourbon stood up, removed her skirt and panties, and returned to the couch next to me. She began rubbing her clit with her vibrator while still stroking me softly. It was amazing. After several minutes of this we moved to the floor, she flipped my loose skirt up, and climbed on top of me. She rode me and used her magic wand until she trembled with her first orgasm... I could feel her dripping down my balls when she finished. Which just made me want more...

There was head. There was rubbing, licking and touching... all the while moans of pleasure emanated from the television behind us.

Lady Bourbon took out the new toy... the blue, strapless-strap-on. She turned it on and a small gasp escaped her lips as the large, bulbous end disappeared between her legs. She stood, gloriously naked in front of me with a semi-realistic, vibrating cock... and I took her into my mouth and played with her lower half until she orgasmed for a second time.

Then it was my turn... and this is also where things got a little... hinky? Not kinky... hinky.

Turning me over, Lady Bourbon got behind me. Large quantities of lube were used... and her first attempt at "being on top."

Now, not being a life-long penis haver... the mechanics of what came next were a little awkward. Alignment, angle, positioning... She's not used to being an "outie" as it were. So there were some difficulties.

Not to mention the size of the thing - I was having some difficulties.

We decided to downsize things and go for Pinkie - the old standby toy... and after a few attempts and repositioning... she succeeded.

Let me just say this... There is something VERY intimate about this. About having your wife, your best friend, your lover, your everything... penetrate you and be in charge. There is something so... I'm not sure WHAT the word is exactly... but it was awesome. There is a difference in Fucking someone and letting someone FUCK you.... and that's what she did. It was awkward being everyone's first time and all - but oh so very sexy.

When that was done, she went down on me... then she rode me again... and in the end I came so hard I didn't want to move.

We kissed. We held each other.... we got a fucking towel and cleaned up the mess and we laughed.

After - we went to the bar and drank bourbon and Long Islands. We ate wings and chips and salsa. We went home and watched a shitty movie... and then we both slept with reckless abandon.

I love her. I love that she loves me. I love that we can try new things without fear or shame. I love that she gets turned on by me after 10 years, 2 kids, and a whole lot of life's bullshit. I love that she'll go out of her comfort zone to try new things with. I love that when she gets off, she gushes... I love that she loves making eye-contact when she gets and gives head. I love my best friend... and I love the way she loves me back.

At the station

Whatever drugs were in Todd’s system weren’t making him twitchy - that would be the understatement of the year. He was positively vibrating with whatever the hell was coursing through his veins. Everything was bright and loud. Some people and things seemed to move in slow-motion while others, for no reason Todd could come up with, seemed to move in fast-forward. To put it bluntly - Todd was tripping his balls off. 

He wasn’t sure of the day. He damn sure wasn’t sure of what time it was. And there was a nagging sense in the back of his brain that told him he wasn’t in Ohio anymore. The fact the signs weren’t written in English helped to back this last theory up. Well, that and the fact that everyone around him was shorter than him and lacked that clearly midwestern American look. 

“Holy shit, I’ve been kidnapped.” He blurted. 

“What?” Came a barking laugh from over his shoulder. Todd jumped at the sound. The voice was familiar, yet strange all at the same time. He turned to see a woman with bright, white hair that had been cropped short against her head. Her eyes were neon green and she had a tattoo running up her neck that coiled around her right ear. 

“I… uh…” Sweat poured down his body in the afternoon heat. “Where the fuck am I?” He finally managed. 

And now... a serious(ish) post...

Alcohol... The sweet nectar of the gods...


I like drinking. It's an important aspect of my life. It's one of those things where I would do it all day, every day, if I wouldn't, you know, die in a month from dehydration and liver failure.

Not going to lie - I am a huge fan of bourbon, scotch, top-shelf tequila, rum, vodka, gin, bourbon again, and beer... But the problem is that alcohol is basically a 4th Macro in the grand "weight-loss" and "healthy" aspect of living and you can't really do "diet and exercise" if you're pissing it all away by drinking every night.

As far as calories go - per macro that is - you've got the following:

Protein: 4 calories per gram
Carbs: 4 calories per gram
Fat: 9 calories per gram
Alcohol: 7 calories per gram

So - you're looking at 64 calories per ounce roughly.

And you're thinking - well, fuck, that's not too bad. That's only 200 calories or so for a few drinks... And while true - here is the problem: Alcohol will interfere with the body's processing and burning of FAT...  Normally, the liver metabolizes fats, but you drink, alcohol takes preference. The liver breaks down alcohol for energy first, causing a build-up of fatty acids... Thus counteracting all that cool fat-loss stuff you've been working on and then fucking you up.

This makes me sad. Because there are few things better than coming home, having a drink, and chilling out on the couch with Lady Bourbon... and then, potentially, having sex.

But then I see things like this - Reddit User /u/Klamsykrawl gave up alcohol for a year... He lost 53 lbs and claims to feel better than he ever felt before.

And I'm all "Well, fuck, dude. That looks AMAZING! WHY CAN'T I DO THAT??!"

And the answer is: "Because you like drinking, dumbass." And then I'm all "Oh, right... duh."

So - I WANT to be all sexy for Lady Bourbon when we hit our 10th anniversary. I WANT to not die by the age of 45. I WANT to see my kids graduate high school and college... But I am a horrible person and I drink because I have PTSD and a fetish for alcohol. Okay, not a fetish, but a SERIOUS liking of the substance that make putting it down a "less than easy" thing to do for me. Lady Bourbon also likes drinking. And if she's going to watch tv and have a drink, there's not a chance in HELL I can sit there and NOT drink.

But... I am going to try. I am going to try to get back to my post-army days where Lady Bourbon would look at me and start thinking about doing horribly awesome things to my semi-well-sculpted body. It's still sculpted... but it seems that it's sculpted out of Play-Doh these days.

I'm going to get me one of those fancy calorie counter apps, stop drinking my weight in bourbon, eat more sushi, drink more water, have more sex, and do the thing! Or so I am telling myself.

Wish me luck. I suck at following through on long, life-changing ideologies. Last time I did this was when I ran a spartan race. I lost a ton of weight, got super sexy, ran the race... then rediscovered pizza. And, well, here we are. What? I fucking love pizza.

That's it. I'm off to eat vegetables and chicken! I'm going to spend my days asking "WHAT THE FUCK IS A MACRO AND WHY DO I CARE?!?!" I'm going to go from being 6'1"/240 lbs to being 6'1"/and hopefully around 215 lbs? I think that's a good goal. That would put me in the "oh jesus, I want to fuck that guy" category I think...

We shall see.

Check back in like... I don't know... 6 months?

Date Night... or "How I stopped worrying and learned to love pre-dinner sex"

That's right... I'm 40. I feel old. My body aches and makes noises on its own... I'm not 90... and I'm sure 90 year olds have and love sex too. This isn't a knock on age. I'm not an ageist. I have friends who are aged.

Wait, what?

Right...

I LOVE 2 things... Sex and food. Well, technically I love a lot of things... but I REALLY love sex and food. Not sex WITH food. But eating and getting my fuck on. The problem is - I'm not 20 anymore. Hell, I'm not even 30 anymore. I'm borderline old and not getting any younger. But that doesn't stop me from wanting to eat - both food and Lady Bourbon... But...

There's always a but. And that "but" is that sex is awesome... food is awesome... but sometimes too much food BEFORE sex is NOT awesome.

Let me just lay it out for you.

Dude looks like a lady...

So... let's do some honesty therapy, shall we?

One night in, probably 2005(?) I got to dress in drag for a party. Complete with makeup... and that shit was hot. I think it is safe to say that since that moment, I've held a small, but growing desire to wear that type of outfit again.

Women are lucky... if they're feeling down or sad - they can spruce up with makeup. A little eyeliner, some blush, a little lipstick... bam. All the tiredness is gone. Men - we have to look good with soap, poorly managed beards, and... that's about it.

This weekend Lady Bourbon and I tried something new... She went to the store and picked me out a nice top and some very nice satin panties to match the skirt she gave me. We went out to dinner in normal, gender approved clothing... with the exception of the purple, satin panties I wore under my jeans... They felt amazing.

That's me in the corner...

I'm in a bit of a funk these days. And not the normal, anxiety-induced, worrisome funk... but more of an "I'm feeling old, worthless, and in a shitty time loop" kinda funk. Being February, I feel it's very much Groundhogs day. Every day. I am Bill Murray, but without the option of dropping the toaster into my bathtub.

We've all seen Groundhogs Day, right? The guy wakes up and every day it's the same day over and over and over and over again... Same premise-ish as Happy Death Day and Russian Doll on Netflix. The difference is, these people have the same day over and over, but with no consequences of the actions they choose every day. Want to end a bad day by driving off a bridge with an angry groundhog? NO PROBLEM! Want to drop a toaster in your bathtub due to the extreme amount of stress and seeming worthlessness of life? See you in the morning!

I feel this movie has left me wanting.

Every day for me is like this. But without an out. The closest I have to a re-set is alcohol. I can at least drink myself into a deep sleep that, somewhat, gives me a fresh start the next day by wiping the mental slate clean.

It sucks. I'm sorry. There's no better way to put it. It. Sucks.

A day in the life of a 24/7 D/s couple - A Guest Post by Nikki

Today's guest post is something I know literally NOTHING about - so I am very excited for it.

Our guest poster is Nikki (@loveisafetish on Twitter)

Nikki is a sub, a parent and an artist. She loves her family, music, sex and the color pink.

A day in the life of a 24/7 D/s couple

A Guest Post by Nikki 

It is five o'clock in the morning and I wake up gagged and restrained to the bed, ready to drag my heavy chains to the kitchen to start breakfast for my Dom, like any good sub does.