Sweetlifeconfidential’s Weblog

I masturbated furiously before I went to pick up the Latina from work. I fucked myself for an hour listening to music videos churning out of Fuse TV. Ramming my little hole with my fluorescent pink ‘rabbit’ and plenty of lube. The Rolls Royce of sex toys, naturally. It makes me cum hard and mechanical, it drives my body to have seizure like orgasms. After I came, I went into the living room to write and sip wine. Grey wool knee highs with bows around the top, a lacy pink g-string, and a piece of black lace wrapped around my matted blonde hair.

I looked down at my blinking Blackberry a message from the Latina.

Get excited Pookie!

I was running late so I pulled a heavy grey wool sweater coat over a pair of black yoga pants and ventured out into the snow with my Burberry boots. I drove into the city seething with anger. For some reason the city of Philadelphia and all its surrounding suburbs seem to always forget how to drive whenever any ounce of precipitation may fall from the heavens above.

I pulled up to the Latina’s office just as she came leaping down the iron staircase. She has more energy than a 3 year old that has just had an espresso and a new puppy. She opened the door and swung her gigantic cream leather bag onto the floor. Then she shrieked “HEYYYYYYYYYY POOOOOKIIIEEEEES!!!” The Latina has a habit of shrieking at the top of her lungs anytime she sees me or anyone she may know. I have come to love and cherish it, others may not.

We met up with my dear friend Justin at P.J. Whelihan’s in Cherry Hill. It is the closest bar to my current living situation. I ordered the nachos, I always order nachos and I drank beer. Did you just read that again? Yes, I had a beer (at Justin’s discretion of course).

We drank and gossiped and being with 2 of my dearest friends made everything calm. I felt ok, if even for a moment. We said our goodbyes. I drove home to a perfectly good soundtrack.

El Douche wasn’t home. He was pissed at me for some ridiculous comment I made. I am always good at those, especially when alcohol is involved.

I tried to sleep, but I was left tossing and turning with the flat screen as a glowing backdrop. I went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of red wine to chase the 3 Tylenol PM’s I was going to take. I feel as if I can’t do anything anymore without some kind of lubricant. It makes things easier. It makes you feel good.

Even if it is only temporary.