Sex, Boxing and Fetish

Take a few seconds to read this email I just received on my Myspace personal training page regarding, what was titled as: 'One On One Training with you' .....


Email from 'Ty' :



Hi Dawn, I'm looking to do a one-sided (I don't fight back at all) boxing session, and possibly wrestling. I want you to beat me up, and the session ends when I can't get up.

If it makes a difference, I'd pay $800 for this, and the session should not even take an hour. 

I would supply a waiver, blood test, and anything else you need. 

Let me know if you would be interested, you can contact directly at: billthomas-jr@hotmail.com (my real name is Bill).

Sorry to bother you if this is not your thing.

Thanks, and I really hope to hear back from you 

Ty (Bill)

---end----

I was a little confounded. 
I opened his Myspace page. And there it is. : 

About me:
I am part-time fighter, in very good physical shape, and I'm looking to get dominated by females in private wrestling / boxing sessions. I travel for these sessions as well.
Who I'd like to meet:
Any woman who would enjoy beating me up, and get paid for it.
---------------------------------------------------------


Alright people. I get women dressing up like schoolgirls and having sex.
I get ropes and gags and threesomes and whipped cream and bad girl stuff. I totally get that.
I get women being a little rough with men, and men being a lot of rough with a woman. Hot. Got it.
I can even get a man dressing up like a rhinoceros or some barnyard animal to have sex. I can sorta kinda maybe wrap my head around that. I said maybe. But it's slightly possible.

But 2 things I can never seem to scratch out a fantasy in, is 
A) A man dressing up like a woman during sex, Excuse me but, wtF. 
and now the latest..
B) A man wanting a woman to beat the living snot out of him, break his teeth, shatter his septum, and him handing you 8 Benjamins. Fuzzy. I'm real fuzzy on that one. 


My response:


I do see 1 glaring problem Ty. We haven't yet dated. 
In order for me to want to passionately beat the crap out of a guy, the prerequisite is generally for me to have dated him- and it ending with an assortment of dramatic Italian hand gestures / door slams and a slue of unreturned phone calls on my behalf. (This most commonly being the result of some newly unearthed male asshole tendency.) So to want to smack you upside your head, having a tumultuous history is somewhat key Ty. Uh...Bill. Whoever you are.. Then, hell yeah. Game on.
Otherwise, I just see this 'beat me up session' as an opportunity for me to make the next mornings obits. So save your 800 bucks dude. You'll need it to flee to Mexico after you've beheaded some woman and fed her remains through a sausage grinder.
But hey, thanks for the creepy offer.
~d
---------end---------


It got me thinking...
hmmmmm...
Maybe his mom used to beat the shit outta him, and then said she was sorry, and that she loved him more than life itself, and thats why he wants to harken back to the abuse.
Or maybe he was deficient in experiencing some type of physical discipline as a child.
Or maybe he has some repressed guilt with some woman, that he feels he was never properly penalized for.
Or maybe it's simply that he's some hellbent perv who wants his ugly undateable head squooshed between some hot womens perineum.
Intutive. I've been called that.


I might be a little off here, but I believe women love men because...they're men (a show of hands please).
They behave like men. They have fight in them. They're stronger than women. Theyre supposed to be. They can physically overpower, and protect a women. Crazy notion. 
I mean, the intensity of that natural law is fetish in and of itself. Yes, some women may like being strong (not me of course ), but what really turns them on, is to know that their man is undeniably stronger. Or maybe that's an unfair generalization, and that's just crazy little ole me.
Women secretly love handing that damn stuck jar that they cant open to a man. We bang and twist and grunt to no avail. He opens it without a visible flinch. We silently melt. And continue preparing the gourmet Fluff and banana sandwich with raging hormones.

Men don't run around and scream when a bee lands on them (fine. I do that). They don't cry at commercials of children with distended stomachs and flys hatching in their eyes. They don't sit around and talk about the sale prices of shoes.... and they certainly don't beg you to bludgeon them until they crap their pants and collapse on the floor like your ailing grandmother would after just getting back from hip replacement surgery. Christ, if I wanted to take some guys money while I go off the deep end, I wouldve stayed married. 

So if a man truly wants me to overpower him, to the point of humiliation, I have one piece of advice for him: Hand over your ATM card and set me free during a Half Price Sale Day at Maurice Villency Furniture. I'll definitely dominate your ass in that arena. Otherwise, carry me upstairs, get the barbeque started, put the football game on, change my tires, and quit your wanting to get beaten like a whining girl fetish. 





;)~~

Thanklessgiving

Well its almost Thanksgiving day here in the United States. Some will be thankful and gracious for the food set before them. Most, however, will just be thankful they're going over someone else's house so they don't have to get off their fat asses and cook. But either way, it's a time we're all taught to take pause and be grateful for certain things we may take for granted during the rest of the year. Food, specifically. I'm assuming this means the plentiful pesticide laden foods we're all fortunate enough to grow tumors from. But oozing sores and premature deaths aside, we need to be thankful. But not to worry, I'm sure we can resume our normal ungrateful habits once the last of the stuffing leftovers are gone. Which could be upward of 6 months, so this grateful thing could potentially get a little exhausting. I better grab a pillow.

But I personally may be off the hook, You ask why. Well, I thought long and hard about this big, food on the table 'Thanks', and I'm coming up a little dry. No surprise there, dry goes hand-in-hand with cooking turkey. I know some people eat bugs, and dirty water, and pieces of their aunt if they happen to survive a plane crash and their aunt didn't. So emotionally it seems right. But when every supermarket has over 55,000 products, and every other billboard on the highway is a dancing french fry, logically, it just doesnt. That's like Paris Hilton being thankful for having 8,600 pairs of shoes. It just feels arrogant to me.

For starters, we have food. And way too much of it. And nothing we've ever hunted for. The bulk of it having more chemicals running through it than Keith Richards, and Courtney Love combined. I once read that our thank worthy food has so many preservatives in it, that autopsers actually claim it now takes longer, than ever before in history, for the decomposition process to initiate in cadavers. Hey thanks for that. That's great. I feel honored that I'l rot slower.

So thankful for that? I'm not. I'm all about the fast rot. Get it over with.

And honestly, with all the BHTs and BHAs in all this food we consume, I want General Mills / Lucky Charms to gimme my money back, for this supposed 'luck' I was brainwashed to believe in, and enthusiastically ate my entire childhood, in hopes of it resulting in a brighter future. When what they really should have added is the dancing, grey tombstone mini marshmallow at the end of their Lucky Charms marshmallow brigade to set the record straight. And I'd prefer my money in gold coin denominations glistening into a trolls pot at the end of a rainbow, because I don't feeling like waiting on line at the bank. Actually, If the horrid preservative facts stands true, I'm quite sure I'll be able to get up from my coroners table and come get it myself. So never mind. But we're supposed to be thankful for the food. Ok. Thanks for the 3,489 varieties of ketchup. I'm not sure how I'd survive otherwise.

The pilgrims were thankful because food sources were limited. And because they hunted and struggled for their food. They were making itchy underwear and womens sanity napkins out of corn husks for Christs sake. We don't hunt. We don't struggle. We don't drape our private parts in corn husks. We go to Stop and Shop and Balduccis Finer Gourmet Foods and point to entrees on restaurant menus. The whole thing seems a bit pretentious and hypocritical if you ask me.

On the other hand, if the world happened to reset itself one day, and we're back at ground zero, and I have to tirelessly hunt for 13 nights just to come up with a field mouse kill, than I'll be grateful for the field mouse. If I ended up on a desert and stumbled upon one of those little dentists cups filled with minty water, I'd be grateful then too. If I lost all my teeth and awoke the next morning to look like that 70's Farrah Faucett poster, I'd be grateful too. But for the said gluttonous amounts of biochemically engineered food and the climbing obesity rates alone, I'm shaking my head so hard I'm suffering from whiplash.

The people that should truly be thankful, are the people banking all the profits from all the unused gym memberships, the Bi-Pass surgeons, stint manufactures, antacid suppliers, elastic jeans manufacturers, and the Grave Diggers Union boys.

Don't hear that the wrong way. There are endless things I'm forever grateful for. And on every single day. Not just on the day Turkeys get executed.

I'm of course thankful for certain people in my life. I do stress certain.

I'm thankful for the reemergence of my own health, and having a healthy beautiful family that drives me to drink, and threaten their small lives. So I'm thankful for that. I'm thankful I have a steady hand and a good aim with a blow dart gun. I'm thankful for that. But I refuse to be thankful for the entire meat depatrment that drinks an IV infusion of antibiotics and steroids and e-coli for lunch, and then eats my insides, for Thanksgiving dinner. Not terribly thankful for that.

I believe in being grateful for the simple things in life, the unsung heros of the 'giving thanks' world. So that's where I shall redirect my thankful Hallmarky energies. So just so you dont think im a complete ingrate, I've decided to compile a list of small things that i'm utterly grateful / thankful for, in order to make a speedy upgraded recovery from a total ingrate degenerate, to a partial ingrate degenerate.

1. Organic Food: It tastes good. And I rot faster. Small gesture, but I appreciate it.

2. Clean Running Water: So I can turn on the faucet and drown out the sound of me peeing if someone is close by, so I can maybe retain some dignity.

3. Eyelids: When was the last time you high-fived your eyelids. Fish got shanked in this department, so I'm forever grateful that I can close my eyes when I see a squirrels brains spilled in the road or a bad grade on my kids homework. And for all the years I fake slept and pretended I was sleeping when I was married. Thank you eyelids. I'm forever grateful.

4. Straws: How else would I be able to anonymously shoot driveway pebbles at all the lame moms during PTA meetings. Forever grateful to Thomas Straw.

5. Hands: I'm grateful I have hands. How else would I be able to draw. And hold hands with losers. And talk. But a special thanks to one finger in particular for all the active involvement its taken in my communicative life. Thank you for always being there for me. Proudly standing up for me.

6. The Word 'fuck': Where oh where would I be without this. It's unconditional availability has gotten me through some pretty turbulent times. So fuckin A for that one.

7. Westport PD : All the times I've been pulled over has made me check my mirrors more ( only to see if I see them ). So I'm safer now--from Westport PD. So I'm thankful for scumbag cops.

8. Cougars: I'm so glad I'm called a cougar at my age, when I could have so easily been referred to as another less appealing, grosser animal. i.e. ' Old Flea Bag'. ( and don't get any ideas, or I'll sik my 28 year old mindless motor cross side of beef on your ass). So thank you guys.

9. My 3 dogs: It's helped me take my crap cleaning skills to new levels. I do it so fast now that I can seamlessly snatch your watch off at the same time. Don't know if you've heard, but I've actually recently been promoted to Shit Wizard. A special shout out and thanks goes out to my dog Luigis entire lower intestine. Too bad he can't hear me. The sound of him peeing under my coffee table is sadly drowning me out.

10: Corn and Callous removers: Makes Christmas shopping so much easier. Thank you Walmart.

11. Gas stations: God, I'd hate to have to wake up extra early to drill my own oil. Thank you Exxon for raping the planet for me, so I can get to kickboxing class on time.

12. Duct tape: Where do I start. Thank you, thank you from the bottom of my remotes battery compartment.

13. The Good Bacteria: Thanks for kickin all the bad bacterias asses for me. Sucks that you got that 'bacteria' stigma thing goin on in your name. That can't be good on job interviews.

I seriously hope your resume spends more time embellishing the 'good' part of your job. Anyway, you, my tiny friends, rock my biological world.

14. Nose Hairs: I can't imagine everything that would get through my nasal passageway without them flitting around up there. If I didn't have nose hairs, I could breath like 2 Coco Puffs up to my brain and drown head first in a bowl of cereal. Or on second glance, more like 2 desk globes or a couple of Penn tennis balls. So today I'm grateful that I have nose hair bodyguards that defend me against the miscreant Coco Puff riffraff.

15. The End of The Bush Era: I'm not referring to the Presidency, I'm referring to 70's womens crotch hygiene. Gone are the days. Grateful beyond words.

16. Dysfunctional Families : Without them, America's Thanksgiving, family get-togethers would be as bland as, well... turkey.

And lastly,

17. America: Because if I lived in some third world country, as a woman, I'd be so set on fire for writing this.