Oh, god. I was so wrong about how my night would unfold. I think I’m still drunk.
It was 4:20 pm when I decided to just randomly text GayBoy. Our exchange went like this:
“We should get drunk this weekend.”
“Should we? What do you suggest?”
“I hear alcohol works.”
“People do say that. What type?”
“I’m cooking fish later, you want some? So, big btl wine?”
“I got cider and tequila at home?
“That sounds like trouble. So, you want fish then? If so, bring a baguette.”
So, he brought the baguette, a bocce ball set, a mickey of good tequila, and a six-pack of cider.
“I can’t drink tequila straight!” I argued. “We need to mix it with something.” He dismissed this as the whining of an ignorant child, but provided orange juice in case I really “want(ed) to be a sissy”.
Unbeknownst to me, it turns out that not only can I do the salt-lick/shot/suck-on-lime tequila drinking straight, but I can do it very… very… very well. Like, none of his hissing and teeth-grinding after sucking back a shot. More like, “Oh, that hit the spot. Another?”
So, so much for getting up at 4am to cycle and watch the sunrise.
Then there’s the drama of my cooking up a fish-fry with some garlic bread, using all of two appliances, which then blew the fucking circuit breakers for the kitchen. I tried to reset it, to no avail. I did all the things I know how to do with circuit breakers (in a 57-year-old building? fucking right I know how) and fuse boxes, but the thing wouldn’t set.
So I call the building management’s 24-hour response centre, and within 30 minutes I’m talking to the drawling electrician named Bob who’s condescendingly walking me through the whole breaker thing yet again. I’m explaining to him the lack of resistance on the breaker, there’s no catching, no clicking, it’s yielding far too easily.
Then GayBoy speaks and the guy hears a male voice. Asks to talk to “my friend” since he might know a little about electricity.
I scowl, “This is SO sexist, but hang on.”
“No, I don’t mean to–”
“Here’s my MALE FRIEND, Bob. It’s been a slice.”
A few minutes later GayBoy’s getting off the phone, talking about how there might be a service charge.
The guy calls back. None of this talk-to-the-man of the house bullshit. I flipped into my take-no-prisoners cool-as-a-cucumber “bitch” mode.
“SERVICE CHARGE? My ass! In 10 years of living here, I’ve never called for help once. I’ve reset the breakers dozens of times in my ten years– The building’s 57 years old and this shit happens. You want to charge me for a 57 year old building blowing a breaker? You can’t even tell me how MUCH the charge will be? I can handle waiting till Monday, but I ain’t paying a damn cent for this, so you’re going to call whoever signs the workorders, and you’re gonna get this resolved, because this ain’t some dumb-ass tenant who doesn’t know any better, this is a 57 year old building–” and continued for another moment or so, touching on all the smart reasons this guy who’d been treating me like a sexist dick might want to make an argument in my favour with his boss.
“Um, I’ll have to call my boss,” Bob meekly replies. Five minutes later, I’m listening as Bob is explaining that we’ll need to wait till Monday, but there will be no service charge, and he’s “profoundly sorry” to have “implied anything sexist” and that he’s spoken to “many women over the years” who clearly know “far more than men” and I must be another example of this Elevated Femme-type woman.
Naturally, the tell-tale “this call is being recorded” end-of-conversation “Are you now happy with the circumstances as they stand, that we won’t charge a service call, nor will your tenancy be impugned in any manner–”
Fuckin’ thrilled, Bob. Seeya Monday, sweetcakes.
I’ll have a new circuit breaker Monday. My fridge is plugged into my oven, yielding the black-pit of hell that has been left to fester under the fridge that hasn’t been moved in nine years…
So my Sunday involves me on my hands and knees scrubbing through the grime of hell as my stomach churns and chastises me for not being wise enough to puke my guts out before I passed out at two in the morning.
This is so not the weekend I expected to have, and while I feel so hungover, I’m in a pretty amused state.
Here’s some Sugasm. Eat some, you’ll feel better. I won’t, but you will. Word of advice? Avoid the tequila.
The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants.
This Week’s Picks
Flunking A Call
“I fell silent again and tried to think. What did he want?”
Revision
“He seemed… perfect. ”
Shaving, revisted.
“I don’t do it for society, for anyone who will or will not be seeing it. I do it for me.”
Mr. Sugasm Himself
Sugar Bank
Editor’s Choice
Exploitation, objectification and breaking the law…
Thoughts on Sex and Relationships
Be The Man Other Men Envy, Be PullJoy
Catalina loves Her Latest BILF List
HNT - Venus and Mars
Of Pillow Fights & Panty Showing
The Way To a Man’s Heart - A Play in One Act
What is with all of the Swinging? - Truth or Fiction
Sex News, Reviews & Interviews
A Hot Medical Femdom Scene With Mz Berlin, Kayla Paige, and A Dirty Sponge Gag
I Want It! I Want It! I Want It! It’s At Exquisite Restraints Corsets
The Liberator Sex Wedge: Form, Function, Fucktacular. I love it.
New Toy Alert
Not Your Regular Vibe
Sex, Drugs & Baseball
Why inviting bi-girls to brunch is the best
Will You Carry Me Over The Threshold?
Zen And The Art Of Pornographic Madness
Sex & Politics
All Wound Up and No One to Spring On
NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio
Cheerleader is fucked hard donkey style
Happy Fourth of July -HNT
Half-Nekkid on the Road to Hell
InFocus Girls
Pornsaint Madison Young
Property of Lady Evyl
Sandy Summers in red lingerie
Sundaycore
Thank you for the flowers
Tila Tequila Totally Nude
Sex Work
Meet Lew, My CockSucking CumEating StrapOn Slut
BDSM & Fetish
Agony of Ecstasy: the Ruined Orgasm
And marie Moaned
FLOG memories
Get a Load of These Gams!
Impromptu Ravishment Play
Miss Lioness
The Piggiest Pigs at Leather Retreat
Switchy Thoughts on Spiritual Domination
Testing the New Implements
Erotic Writing and Experiences
2nd Blogiversary
Becoming
The Cam Lover pays to fist a 19 year-old Ass
Fiction: Taxicab Confessional
Four: of weeks and wantings
Friend with benefits- properly fucked
Getting to fuck the neighbor 5
Good weekend
Gustav Klimt Nachlass
I love the way you cuddle!
Kung Fu Theater
Monday’s Slut Journal
More bloody married people and doctor/patient roleplay…..
My first visit to Manbar
Night Ride: Trigger’s Bike
Permanent haze
The prize for working
Traction Bound
4 Comments
You’re now learning why they call the stuff “Ta-Kill-Ya”. Seriously, though, a large part of why you feel like crap is that you’re dehydrated. Try getting some water or Gatorade type stuff in your gut. At this stage, some aspirin wouldn’t hurt, either.
Good job dealing with Bob, too.
Ha, yeah, actually, I was fine after an hour. I woke up at 5:30, had two glasses of water, and back to bed, had another two an hour or so later. Slept like shit from 5-9, but rested and caught up with water, and by 10 was great. :)
Fridge is spiff, kitchen’s totally done, and had 11 hours of sleep last night. I rock!
But thanks.
Ever done a tequila suicide? There are some mental people in the UK.
Do I SOUND stupid enough to do that? Fucking MORONS.
The stupidest I get is passing out without my three glasses of water I usually take first.
No, I’m of the “live only rough enough that it’s not going to FUCK me later in life” crowd that pushes limits only within reason.
‘Cause I find life pushes plenty of the limits all on its own.