Tongue Sandwich

Unfortunately a “tongue sandwich” is not what I thought or hoped it was. I just thought it was another bit of slang for “French kissing.” Nah! Shit...well quite.

tongue sandwich

1. colloq.
   
   To lick or suck the anus.
2. Usually as a prelude to fucking, to lubricate with saliva the anus.
3. To widen the opening of the anus with the tongue.
   See also: ▶rim

I swear that’s not the context I’ve heard it in. I found one site that said it was kissing with tongues, (what I wanted), but the overwhelming results is for anal-oral sex, primarily amongst gay men. Most sites being “Gay Slang.” Though I’m sure many women do it too to other women or men. Not me though. It is the last thing I’d ever want to do, or for that matter have done to me. That’s just my own personal feelings about the anus and anal related activities. Fingering it or being fingered - no thank you! I just can’t get the shit out of the way.

This is a bit annoying. I thought I had a clever way of discussing an absolutely yummy sandwich I had for lunch with Garry and the kissing that took place afterward. Perhaps another time when I can get my thoughts together. I am also annoyed that I’m not with it. I thought I was so down with gay culture.

Paying For It

I haven’t mentioned on this blog before that whilst in one of my depressed Oh-God-Why-Am-I-A-Cleaner states, I got tipsy at work on some wine that was left in the fridge. It had been left over from a wake at the office for one of their work colleagues. Classy or what?! (Me I mean). [http://flirtanddirt.blogspot.com/search/label/drinking]

I wasn’t proud of myself but I was really down at the time. (No excuse!) What’s worse though is I kept doing it. Not right away but I “got away with it” once so I did it again. I’m not even sure how many times it was. I think it was only when I was feeling upset or depressed, but it was a few months ago and I honestly can’t remember the reason each time I did it, or how many times it’s been now. I don’t think anyone noticed. If they have they never said anything to me. It didn’t make my work any easier in terms of getting it finished in time but man I have to say I loved not giving a shit while I was there.

It did catch up on me though. There was a cask of red and one of white. I got through them both. Obviously I couldn’t take the risk of being caught or someone noticing they were empty – although truth be told someone many have noticed or had a few illicit sips themselves. If they did notice the dwindling supply I don’t think they knew it was me who was taking generous swigs.

It was nearly time for me to go overseas on a short holiday and I decided I couldn’t leave the nearly empty casks as they were. Too risky. So I went out and bought some replacements. Now those fridge casks are rather bulky so I had to take one in at a time. For some reason I thought I’d have to pay $50 or more, which almost put me off it, but then when I want to my saviour Dan Murphy’s I found they were about $14 each. (Something like that anyway). Bit of a bitch carrying them both home but the guilt got me through it. When I was in Dan Murphy’s I thought it’s cask wine and it was for a work related occasion, of course it wasn’t going to be expensive!

The wine isn’t the only way I’ve been paying for it at work. I’ve been extremely fortunate to go overseas for short holidays three times this year. (Don’t worry I won’t be able to do it again for ages). EVERY time I do I pay for it. The first time I honestly could not believe the amount of work I had to do to get on top of things. But what makes it worse is that morning I was called and asked to do a shift at the City Baths as well. It was my mum’s birthday the night before so I had been drinking. I wasn’t drunk or hung over but I wasn’t ready to get up when I got the call either. I found out that my boss’s husband had suggested they call me the night before but she decided against it. It would have helped! I would have gone to bed earlier for one thing. So basically I had one of the longest days at work in my life. Maybe 14 hours. Not just because I had to work an extra (full time hours) day shift but because I needed to do overtime on my regular shift. I can still remember thinking when I got to my regular job, “Did they do ANY cleaning when I was away?” I sent a rather blunt text message about needing to do the overtime and I actually got paid for it, the only good thing about that day.

I’ve had the occasional night off before too. I stress occasionally. And when I come back the next day there’s a tendency I’ll be given an extra lot of tasks for that night; for example cleaning out the two refrigerators. In my old cleaning job I never had to do the fridges or the microwaves, but for some reason I do here. [By the way it’s the same cleaning company]. If you do it properly, and I do try to, it can be a long and painful process. I’ve done a big clean of them twice and I’m pretty sure I cried both times. It takes so much time. I hate the fact that you’re faced with food that you don’t know whether or not you can throw away. Sometimes they are left in nice Tupperware containers but you can smell and see the food is off. I end up throwing the whole thing out. It doesn’t seem right but even after a through clean would you really want something that housed that much mould in it?

I’m wondering if my boss is being a bit passive aggressive towards me when I ask for time off. (I’m just not clear on the definition of passive aggressive even though I did look it up online. From what I can gather if it isn’t it’s pretty damn close). I know I’m asking a lot, especially this last trip, but like I said already, every time I take even a day off there seems to be a shit load of extra work to do. Here is another example: a few days before my last overseas trip I was informed of a new task. It was just dusting but there was an awful lot of it. I forget the word they used for this piece of furniture so I will describe what it is instead. Under the desks there is a set of drawers that happen to be on wheels so you can position them wherever you like in your area. Most people keep them under their desks. All of these had to be pulled out and dusted. I was never told about this before but the tone I was told about them in suggested it was my fault that I hadn’t been doing it regularly all this time. (Okay I am a bit sensitive to what seems like constant criticism to my work efforts but seriously 99.9% of the time the only feedback I get from my boss or supervisor is what I’m doing wrong. I resent it because as much as I hate this job I try so hard to do it properly and thoroughly). I did manage to finish it all off in time but boy it meant finishing late again. I mentioned this to my boss and I got some overtime pay for it but really I should have been paid all of it. Man overtime and not being paid for it is another story! And partly been discussed on my other blog. (Follow the link if you dare!)

I haven’t been back at work that long from my last holiday; maybe a week and a half. Tonight (well actually last night now) was the first time I finished on time. I do feel on top of things again, which I guess is good. I did have a drink on Monday but I resisted it on my last shift. I think I can stop now. I really don’t want to buy another set of replacements and fingers crossed I’ll be moving on soon.

Sexy Old Man

You know one old man I really fancy? John Mahoney.

He was still pretty good looking in the early days of Frasier. He started to look like an old man near the end of the show. I found him very sexy and so much nicer than Frasier and Niles in terms of character (well okay looks too!)

Working it out he would have been 56 when the show first went to air and almost 66 when it ended. Sexy as he damn well is! I couldn't be seen in public with him. It never looks right. “Uncles” and sugar daddies; I don’t know who comes across worse? The old man or the young woman? Of course it’s all personal. As a feminist - and I feel I am one - do I then have to ask myself how I feel about the situation when the genders are reversed? That is, when it’s an older woman, a so-called cougar, with her toy boy? I don’t think I care! I mean this torment is all about me! How do I feel being seen with Terry or any man significantly older then me? Seen as a couple that is. I mean we talked about playing father and daughter in public but I don’t want that. I’ve waited 29 years for someone who wants me for more than sex. I’m not going to pretend I’m not dating them. Why should I? But then I can’t deal with the age difference and the image we’d cast.

What is wrong with me? Why is it that only men of a certain age take notice of me? At first it seemed to be a combination of married and older men. When they are married I reason they were just desperate for anyone to fuck, even me! It hasn't always been that personal or that intense; that is I'm not going to be the love of their life. I'm just the "relief" on the side. I still feel bad for their wives but I also reckon, "If not me then someone else." And it usually is me and a few someone elses. In some ways I’m just too easy to bed. Am I such a freak that it takes a mature taste to see anything worthwhile in me? It’s not bloody fair.

I want to be part of a couple. Run my fingers on the back of his neck – yes his. Being with a woman publically would freak me out as much as being with a man that's too old for me. I’m not a lesbian, bi-curious – bye bitch! – at times, but even then the “experimental” urge hasn’t been that strong, or even seriously there for a long time. Anyway, I’m running my fingers through his hair as we’re waiting for something. Time goes on and I rest my head on his shoulder and he takes my other hand and gives it a squeeze. A tired and content look on his face then a smile and a look in his eyes that says he can’t wait to get back into bed for an encore of last night. I grin back and blush – I can’t help it! Besides, I can’t wait either.

I enjoy Terry’s attention. (Well I'm sure I’ve already said that. I've never been so loved). I can talk to him openly. I have shared most of my deepest, darkest burdens. I’m still worried in some ways about the issues I've raised, but it has been good to talk to someone about them. Like taking a deep breath after holding it for too long. He is my best friend. However the age difference and gender difference can make it awkward. (Perhaps that’s just in my head). But I’m repeating myself (as I’m prone to).

I enjoy the attention from Ash and Garry too but they’re married and it’s not as constant as Terry’s. Sometimes I feel sorry for him. I mean if I’m the highlight of your day – or life by the sounds of it – then I’d want my money back from God, or whoever. [I’m not really happy with how that came out. If anything Terry that’s meant to be a put down of me not you; I never want to hurt you! Although that’s all I can see happening in the end. Crap! Shit! Fuck!] Looking at it another way it’s quite a thing to say about someone. Perhaps I’m just not romantic enough. Being suspicious of romance deep down.

It’s easier when they’re married. Strange to say since I obviously don’t relish being a bit on the side. Sometimes I wish I was a courtesan. A companion and a lover, smart, talented and spending my time with rich men. Oh yes! I think I’d have to be better at sex first! I’m easily used; do I have to enjoy it if I’m a courtesan? A hole, a mouth, I’d rather not be an arsehole, hands, tits; the whole package.*

*Package may or may not include anal. Please consult your service provider or increase your chances and stop off at an off-licence first.

As a sex act anal does not appeal to me. I have done it, not entirely convinced or willingly, it hurt and didn’t turn me on at all. Having, “It feels delicious,” in my ear in a pleading tone doesn’t help either. Don’t think I did it with him. He did not break on through to the other side. I’d had my anal experience by then, not again. You can go down on me if you want though. (Of course I didn’t say that).

I wish I could accept my body, (hair and face included), it would make life and sex so much easier.