Do You have the Time...

to listen to me whine....

Of course not, what a stupid question. 

This week's Dance, Cum or Meditate is :

Green Day - Basket Case [Official Music Video] (youtube.com)

I wasn't an instant fan of Mr. Armstrong.  (Name redacted) youngest of the (edit) clan introduced me to (censored album name because that's a stupid & gross word) I think it was the same visit that she coined the term I still call my little vanillas. For anyone with the Major Events in Cass's life Bingo Card set, check off: that time Cass did NOT marry that boy on a dare. I love lyrics, I think I've mentioned that before. I like clever lyrics, like Billy Joel's Scenes from an Italian Restaurant. A threat to whine, swapping some pronouns and an odd pronunciation of melodramatic, it won't take much but I will need a little more than that if you want me wet. 

In my organic, small batch, local brewed, vanilla life, we just wrapped up a mini exploration of the childhood of Van Gogh. 

I found myself wondering, how talented does one have to be to be so insufferable?  Which in turn lead to some harsh inner dialog that I really need to hone my craft if this is how I present to the world. 

My poodle is already pink, I have some catching up to do.

I am sticking to writing weekly, go me. Don't bother reading the last one though. We were aiming for done, not well done. 

In my defense, I tested positive for Covid an hour or so after I hit publish. Nearly over it, still isolating, if you love me, entertain me. 

I've also been super committed to OnlyFans, keeping to the schedule I set for myself, seeing it finally pay off; I'll miss it when I pull the plug. 

Wait. What? She dyed her poodle? She's leaving OnlyFans?  

Mmm, yes don't you listen? 

Where am I going next? 

Who knows, who cares. 

My goal is to find a platform where I will never receive a message that a photo, I took of myself was removed because I failed to document that I had the creator's consent to post it. The best part is wondering if setting the bar there is still too high for 2024. 

Also, still looking for a web designer. Obvs, must be kink and adult content friendly. Feel like that bar shouldn't be hard to step over either, but here we are. 

Basketcase? Cass is striking a match, let's dance. 

Post Publish Clarity Edit: Although it is absolutely on brand for me to spur of the moment declare ftn and walk away from anything, I won't be abandoning my fans  friends on OnlyFans. I will commit firmly to another platform and invite you to follow me there. I will likely maintain my premium OnlyFans even after moving, I am sincere when I say I value loyalty. 

Imagine there's a clever title here, and perhaps like magic there will be later

Lightning-fast entry, maybe we'll edit and add pictures later. The goal is weekly posts. I built in some wiggle room, because I know myself. A week is either 7 days from the last one or ends on Friday, whichever let's me say honestly, I met that expectation I set. 

It's 6:24 AfuckingM. After the gym, there's a vanilla commitment, then pack and then the studio. This is the window I have for getting this done. There were a dozen other open windows all week long, but ya know sometimes the highest one, the narrowest one, the one that's about to close; that's the one that looks the most interesting. 

I'm not going to beat up my top's property because I had a hard time managing my time and my feels this week. What a waste of time to revisit that. 

Do you like that phrasing? I mean I could have said, I am not going to berate myself for having a challenging week. Negative self-talk is really damaging, and water is wet. I know these things, everyone knows these things, don't they? But all the same, Cass would absolutely tell herself she's really falling short to not meet this simple goal that I set for myself. Oh, and I'd use my most aggressive, most unkind vocabulary. But my top expects me to take exceptional care of his property, so I don't talk to myself that way. 

It's funny how the stories we tell ourselves create our reality. ILike,  don't go to the gym, masochists go to the gym. I smoke, I can't quit. I love sleeping in. There were also ideas like, I could never afford to touch up my hair every 4 weeks or manicures every two. The math is right there, I could do my hair every 2 weeks, and my nails every week on my cigarette budget if I wished, and tip generously. But I could only hear the story I was telling myself. 

Anyway- naval gazing is over, I gotta get ready to see my second favorite sadist. 

 

Some you grew up with around the way,

And you're still real close to this very day

Dance, O or meditate? 

Whodini - Friends (Official Lyric Video) (youtube.com)

He had asked if it made me uncomfortable that my friends have seen me work. I could see how curious he was even there was a hint of incredulous in the mix. I opted to clarify that part of the story instead. See I was telling the story of how every time I catch up with <name redacted, lifelong friend> he gives me a hard time about that time I broke So & So's nose (So & So isn't a lifelong friend. Truthfully, I don't recall his name) trying to swing on a pole. Instead of answering the question my Master asked, I clarified that I wasn't at work. I wasn't stripping. I was just having fun, being silly in a night club. 

My top's question was better. I mean who cares about a nose I may have broken 25 years ago? I'm looking at you <name redacted>. 

How did I feel when people I knew saw me work while naked? Isn't that a much cooler question?

I couldn't begin to estimate how many people have seen me naked. Dancing, toy shows, public play at private events, girl-girl shows, cam shows, decades of content on Fet, and now years on OnlyFans. Oh, I guess I could have turned the question around too. Master, what would you feel if your friends watched you enjoy me in those clips you let me share? 

While I sketched the rough draft for this entry, I thought I'd be able to calculate how many friends have seen me naked though. Kept the count to those not active in the lifestyle. You know, vanilla friends, high school friends, friends from college, day job work friends, fuck gotta add moms of the little vanillas friends. I tried diligently, but I can't estimate that number either. 

Have you seen me naked?  Would you like to know how that makes me feel? Lean in sweetie, I want you to get the best view. While I have no idea who has seen me, I know with absolute certainty that if you have seen me work while naked, you have never, ever forgotten. And I f*cking love that, let's dance. 

If you're bound and you're gagged....

Draped and displayed, would you still love me anyways? 

It's the Misfits mom. 

It's just a song. 

It's called Helena. 

Oh hey, welcome back to 2024.

Of course, we're not going to do a daily post like Seth. But we are, go me, keeping to our intended weekly post. It's already written. This is just the edit and typo patrol. I'll miss some. You know that, don't you? 

Let's keep the game idea though. I love when he says let's play a game. Mine will probably be comparably lame. I have no intention of busting out the rug beater. If you ask nicely, maybe I can be talked into the vampire bat. 

What? The game, right. There was all this blood, sorry I got distracted. 

I mentioned it in the last post, remember?  Dance, orgasm or meditate? Today song is  Helena (youtube.com) 

I'm going with meditate. The Misfits came on during a dance party drift that began with Punk Rock Girl the other day. I did slam hard to it but I'm feeling more chill now. So I'm going to contemplate why Danzig's Helena doesn't love him anyway. First guess, it might be the hair. 

Anyway. 

My top and I were both born during Mercury retrogrades. Have I shared that before? My astrologist said something like, you both talk to people in ways that would seem rude from anyone else, but people really like the way you talk to them. 

They do. Pretty sure the how is unimportant, they like that I talk to them. 

They like when I make them cry too. 

Sometimes though, I feel so misunderstood. I've never quite mastered Vanilla, and to be honest, the older I get the less inclined I feel to try.  

There was a term I fell instantly in love with like a decade or so ago, Mansplaining. How useful, my vernacular desperately needed this word and I began using it with reckless abandon.     

Problem that. I was using it wrong. I'm pretty sure it was Tyler who schooled me. Imagine, having to have mansplain explained to you by a man. How embarrassing. What I thought it meant was so much cooler though. It made sense. I thought mansplaining was when a woman had to dumb down something complicated, like feelings, to explain it to a man. So listen, when you come in here and track mud all over our living room it makes me feel unappreciated. Or, Hey, I appreciate that you think I'm pretty, but this is a funeral and I'm pretty sad right now. I have kindly, successfully, explained something tricky to a man, ergo I have mansplained it. 

Mansplaining, as I am sure you know, is when a man explains to a woman an experience she has had or a concept that she is an expert in. 

I remember for a few months I paid attention to the exchanges I had with men. Because at first I dismissed the concept out of hand. This can't possibly be right. Men talk to you like that, are you sure?  Turns out sometimes they do. I noticed chicks do it to sometimes too. I also noticed that if not for the fact that I was intentionally watching for it, looking to see if this really happens, these are the times I normally cut a dude off and say no, you're not listening. Should the man in question continue to attempt to tell me about myself, the man (or woman) in question is going to find themselves talking to themself. 

Thank you for this invitation to debate, but I must politely decline. 

It saddened me to have to remove mansplaining from my vernacular, but the probability of convincing the masses to use it my way seemed slim at best. And I, thankfully, have no use for it as it is intended. 

So, Helena, are you going to dance, cum or meditate with me?