Category Archives: Specifically Steff

Oh, Mr. President.

Take note men. Even the President gives his coat to his woman when she’s a little chilly. In this cute shot taken by the White House photographer on the way to a ball Inauguration night, Michelle’s given his coat because she’s a cold. I love this shot. Love, love, love.
Chivalry might be dead, but maybe, along with civic service, old-school national pride, and a possible economy, maybe it’ll be yet another thing given a healthy boost by Obama. Enter: The Era of Cool.
Sure as fuck beats the era of Blowhard we’re just exiting.
I like my men old-fashioned when it comes to etiquette. I want please and thank you. I want eye contact and a heavy dose of gratuitous complimenting when I put a tasty plate of pot pie before him. I want the door held open, and I want all the old-school manners I was taught in private school.
I want him to be able to be a little bad, too, but only after he’s held the door open for me, y’know what I’m saying? A nice well-timed dirty leer in the middle of a long night goes a long way sometimes.
Oh, Mr. President. I swoon for your community-organizing, big-word-speakin’, coat-givin’, wide-smilin’ ass. This is gonna be a lovely four years. I imagine it’ll be a while before I tire of the contrast between him and W.

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Pride is Overrated: Of Muffins & Poisoning

There’s probably no greater equalizer of mankind than food poisoning. Everyone can remember That One Meal that left them a gut-churning shell of themselves for 24 to 48 hours.
I had my Lesson in Humility yesterday. I couldn’t even run up to the store for Pepto-Bismol because of the unpredictability of it all. I spent about 25 of 36 hours asleep.
It’s hard not to accept your humanity when some evil meal of shellfish is waging war upon you for an ungodly length of time.
But I believe these things are good. Food poisoning knows no age or class or race. It’s indiscriminate. So’s bad luck, adversity, broken hearts, and broke-ass syndrome. Continue reading

7 More Things You Maybe Didn't Know About Me

I got tagged for this meme for a second time, this time by JamieLD. The first time was here. And why not just brush it off and say “But I did it already?” Huh? Why?
Well, I’ll tell you. ‘Cos, like, there ARE 14 things about me you don’t know. How do ya like them apples? I know, you’re thinking, “Dude, this is one seriously vast chick.” We’re so on the same page. Here’s just some of that vastness, my fabulous minions:
1. Well, you know I’m funny. In fact, I’ve been told on occasion that I’m even, gasp, “really” funny. I’ll accept that answer. But you know what’s also funny? I don’t watch a lot of comedy. You scour my DVD collection and there are very, very few comedies. Maybe 10% of what I own can be classified as funny. Continue reading

Recording a Moment(ish)

I had a moment tonight.
My best friend GayBoy (@mr_tits_pervert on Twitter) was over tonight and we were drinking, doing the Silly Thing, and I was off in the bathroom.
I looked in the mirror and I just remembered my mother and how I always thought she was so beautiful. You know, when she wasn’t wearing her black-&-hot pink industrially-thick socks with too-short pants on “lazy days”, that is. Continue reading

The Start of Something Good

My plan is coming together.
Like last year, the first thing I’m doing is in-depth trying to get my home back under control.
My place has been under siege from cockroaches for a while. I’m winning, but I know they’re still around. I’ve been living in chaos because of it, though. For instance, since the start of November my dishes have all been in a Rubbermaid container on the floor. That contributed so much ambiance at Christmas. And while I tried to get organized after the back injury before the holidays, well, the holidays undid it all.
Continue reading

About My Dad, About Weight, About Change

My dad was moved from the emergency ward, where they were keeping him under intense care because there were no beds in the ICU available, to a “normal” ward because he’s now stabilizing.
The long and the short of what’s wrong is, he has a systemic diabetic infection. Bad shit’s going on inside him and they’re trying to flush it all out. He is sick because he is fat and because he eats shit and does no exercise. Plain and simple. I love him, but these are the facts. Continue reading

And Then It Was 2009

New Year’s Eve Morn and my coffee soon runs out. Snow’s still melting all around us. The sky is indecisive about the day ahead, black as fuck on one horizon and sunny to beat all hell on the other.
Is it a statement about the year that passes us by today? It was this way or that, and never anywhere in between?
Because I don’t know about you, but mine was never very middling. Hard as hell most of the time, but when it was good, my god, it was like I kissed the sky. Continue reading

Thoughts On Community: In With the Out Crowd

It’s funny, this whole “sex blogger community” thing. I’m all for it, but I don’t feel part of it at all. Not because people don’t include me, they do. It’s just… it’s complicated.
I’ve always felt this way, but in the recent months my feelings have been given a boost and now I feel sort of even more isolated and unsexblogger. What’s been the recent impetus for that?
Twitter. Flat-out. See, I’ve got a little over 400 followers or so now, and I follow about 160 people or so. In the beginning, I tapped the people I recognized from blogging, they tapped me back, and I guess as I began yammering all the whacked shit I do, and what with the moniker “SmuttySteff“, my sex following grew, but thanks to my always-weird Twitter feed, also began growing past the mostly sex-blog writing-and-reading community.
Real-time comments from others in the community, about their sexual hijinks, who they’re screwing, what dates they have lined up, chronicles of their masturbation, what new toys they’ve received, how they’re dressing for X, their social interactions, and so forth, juxtaposed against the very vanilla-like-me feeds of others, just all has served to remind me that there’s a very big distinction between being a fan of sex and having really healthy attitudes about it versus being an enthusiast who seeks to keep it present in their life at all times, some of whom might be defined as “lifestylers”.
Debauched Domestic Diva wrote an interesting post this week in which she speaks of “The Lifestyle” and how she feels there seems to be this almost clique-ish attitude in the BDSM community about whether you’re a “lifestyler” or not.

I don’t mean to offend or insult anyone who uses that phrase in their lives and I am sorry if I do, but it confuses the hell out of me because I don’t really understand what it exactly means other than that judgemental feeling I get when I see or hear it. I don’t know if it means you are poly, kinky or what.
I have such a wide range of people in my life these days who all seem to be into something different. Which one of their lives if the correct lifestyle? Maybe someone can explain better to me and help me understand it because I know that right now all I am trying to do these days is just live my life.

I agree with DDD. I don’t have a “lifestyle”. Likely never will. I’m just this girl who got tired of feeling like a “slut” just because she wanted to have a little better sex. I’m 35 now, I’ve never been the type to sleep around. I don’t have multiple partners, ever. I don’t have someone lined up for a filler-shag in between relationships, and have never had someone there in that capacity. I don’t go to sex parties. I don’t really use or look for or even have porn, it’s just not my thing. I prefer my photography erotic, and certainly seek it out at times. On top of that, I have opinions on sex work that run contrary to what most of the active sex blog community believes.
I like sex. I make no apologies for the sex I like. And I sure as hell don’t judge others for having the sex THEY like. Because THAT is what it is all about. But, when I don’t have sex in my life, that’s just fine with me. I’m all right with that. I’m not a lifestyler. It’s not even a hobby for me.
But one of the problems with the sex blog community is, when I’m opting out of the sex race and dating chaos, I feel like I somehow should apologize for it. Like, “how can I like sex if I’m not raving about it daily?” I don’t think anyone’s ever made me FEEL that way, but just stacked up against the oh-so-public exploits I hear, I’m often left feeling like someone let the kindergarten kids into the grade seven class again. I’m just left feeling like I’m somehow out of my league because I don’t do it LIKE THAT.
Which is bullshit.
Because the sex I have is the sex that’s right for me. It gets me hot, keeps me hot, tends to keep me indoors, and keeps me very, very satiated — when I go there. The life I lead is the life I need to be leading right now. The lifestyle I have suits MY style for the time being. I don’t have a lifestyle. I have mystyle. I don’t need to be in relationships. I don’t need approval from anyone else. I don’t have to be sexually engaged to feel a part of my world, or even on top of it.
Not that anyone else in the community does feel they need to lead the life they do, or that they need to do so publicly for any kind of approval. I’m just saying, from my perspective, how I sometimes feel about my own exploits or the glaring lack thereof — probably mostly because I’m fully aware in a first-person kinda way of how plain and unglamourous my little existence is.
But it’s MY life. I’m doing what I need to be doing for ME. Is that really not right? Is it not “good enough” to be a part of the community? Is it just not in keeping with what’s going on out there? Or does it even matter at all?
Judging by the fact that I feel welcomed and appreciated by the community, even if I don’t really feel as if *I* belong there, it doesn’t look like it matters much at all. And that’s very nice.
Yet the fact remains. Here I am, leading a pretty “vanilla” life comparatively, and day-in, day-out, I’m reminded of that fact because I can vicariously experience some of these others’ exploits in real-time through the social world of Twitter. Let’s face it. I’m just that old-school good-girl who’s only as bad as she needs to be to have a good time. How’d I ever get running with this crowd anyhow? It’s a weird, weird world, friends. Still, it’s a fun ride.

"The Truth Is, I'm Lonely"

It’s morning, before 7, there’s both fresh snow and fresh coffee. I was spent by 10 last night and fell asleep during Eli Stone, so I’m finishing it off before I begin the painful commute to work.
There’s a moment when, after a promising four-date relationship crumbles to dust, Eli says simply, “It’s not like I connect with a different woman every week. …The truth is, I’m lonely.”
I had a Fail Date Saturday. It’s complicated. I don’t really want to fill you in. But it was one of those second/third dates with promise that ends with a reality cheque you probably don’t feel like cashing, but the jig’s up, baby. Continue reading

Steff’s Easy-Start Guide to Changing Your Life: Part Two

I began this series last month, here’s part one. It’s pretty unstructured, but the early part of the series is focusing on the head game, because without the head game down, you’ll have no success. It’s all in the head game.
The most important thing you need to do if you want to effect serious change in your life is stop bullshitting yourself. No more excuses. Get it done.
What, you want to wait until everything’s perfect and momentum is good, the clouds are gone and the humidity is stable? Right. Come back here to Planet Earth, where rarely do you ever get what you want when you want it, even in restaurants where you’re paying for precisely that.
That’s why you gotta take what you want. Fuck happenstance and trials and tribulations. Shit happens, always will happen. That’s how life unfolds. I’m down 60 pounds this year, even though the last four months have been consumed with bouts of insomnia, several illnesses, debilitating back injuries, cockroaches infesting my home, and even overtime for the last three weeks steady while rehabbing my back injury, and yet I’ve lost 25 pounds in that time. Continue reading