We Haven’t Had a Soft-Core Friday Post In a While

I’ve done serious writing for the past few entries, so I think that it would be a travesty if I ignored this Soft-core Friday.  Hopefully I’ll have some new smut for an upcoming SCF, but for this week I present the very sexy song “Porn Star Dancing” by My Darkest Days.

Ladies, download this song and do a striptease for your lovah.~  Guys, I’ll find a song for you next week so that you can return the favor.

FYI, this video is age-restricted on youtube which baffles me since the raciest thing that I see here are some girls kissing.  (Prudes.)

On a final note, I’ve really wanted a pole installed for years now, but for some reason my apartment complex has something again drilling holes in our ceilings.

Yet another impetus for buying a house.

Pygmy Goats & A Day With No Bad News

Okay, I’ve decided right now that all of my bloggy peeps need to join in the Indie Ink Writing Challenge.I can see now why my RandyGirl has been encouraging all of us to join for a while since, not only is the challenge of writing from a random prompt fun, but this has got to be the nicest official-type writing group that I have ever joined.  Everyone has been so incredibly welcoming and encouraging that I started to feel all gushy and smushy in my chest.  I’ve had experiences with other official-type writing groups and I have quite a rant prepared for when I talk about them, but I’ll save that.  Right now I’d just like to say thank you so much to all of the II writers, and welcome to the ones brave enough to stick around for more.~  Also, as always, much love to the peeps who have been wonderfully crazy enough to stick around for months and continue to give me such amazing support.

Group grope hug!

goat group hug


Last week, when I posted the product of my first II prompt, my challengee, Mandy from My Plaid Pants, had not done hers yet, so I figured I’d wait to link over to her blog since I planned on writing another post before Friday and would mention it then. Well you know what they say about the best laid plans, and I did not end up doing another post last week. This really has me pissed at myself because Mandy did such a brilliant job with the prompt I gave her, too. *growl* She even took the trouble to research from which book I had chose the quote that was the prompt! *growls again* It’s late, but here is Mandy’s amazing post from last week, The Optimist.

I am not making the same mistake this week, so even though she hasn’t done her prompt yet, check in on octoberesque at The Grace of Pirates who was the lucky(?) recipient of a prompt from moi this week. I won’t spoil the surprise of telling you what was my prompt since some II peeps like to save the reveal of the prompt until the end. I, however, like to tell ya’all what my prompt was from the start since I try to give everyone as much preparation as possible to gird their loins if they are going to read my creative writing. My prompt this week came from another feline female, Katri from The Cat with Glasses. She challenged me with “A day with no bad news”, and it certainly was a challenge for me. I think I made it more difficult for myself than it needed to be, but nevertheless an idea finally erupted in my mind, so I put the idea and the prompt in my skull, shook it around a bit and here follows the product of that mixology.

Story teimz!


The King yawned as he walked into the dining hall. A dreadful storm had raged through the night and despite the thick stone walls of the castle, the noise of it still managed to seep into his bed chamber and keep him awake for much of the night. He rubbed some sleep from his eyes, then smiled anxiously as his manservant, Duboncote, presented a covered plate in front of him. His expression dropped into confusion as Duboncote lifted the lid from the plate and revealed two small onions.

“Oh no, but this is terrible! My dear Duboncote, I am losing my faculties!” the King exclaimed. “Do you know that I somehow thought that I ate eggs for breakfast, and not onions?”

“Worry not, your Majesty, your faculties remain completely in tact since you do indeed usually eat eggs for breakfast,” Duboncote assured the King.

The King dabbed his forehead with the napkin that the servant had tucked in his collar. “Well, now that is a relief,” he said. “I did think that it would be strange to eat onions for breakfast since I do not fancy onions and only a lunatic would request a food that they do not like when they could easily request a food which they do.”

“That is true, your Majesty, however you are no such lunatic since you frequently request food that you do like to eat rather than that which you do not,” Duboncote replied.

“Incidentally, Duboncote,” the King studied the twin bulbs on his plate, “why do I have onions for breakfast rather than eggs?”

His servant gave an excited jump. “I was just about to tell you the news. The storm last night destroyed the coop where we kept the chickens, and chickens–being the clever creatures that they are–took it upon themselves to exit the area of the ruined coop and run away to to the countryside to draw any wolves from the castle!”

“I say!” The King’s jaw dropped in shock. “And here I had not even noticed any wolves near the castles!”

“Precisely, your Majesty!  All goes according to plan!”

“And what a brilliant plan it is!” the King beamed. But then he became confused again.

“Duboncote, would I still be the master of my faculties if I wondered why there was no bread for breakfast either?” he asked.

“You would absolutely be the master of your faculties, your Majesty!” Duboncote gave a bow. “For you see, we had the fortune to play host to a large colony of mice who took shelter in the grain silo from the storm last night. Those considerate creatures consumed all of the grain so that they are quite healthy now and will provide better sport to your pet cats than if they were hungry and weak.”

“This is splendid!” the King thumped the table in joy. “Those cats were getting fat and lazy for lack of good sport!”

“Indeed!” Duboncote continued. “Oh yes, and I must also tell you about the patch of grass which is located under your favourite tree in the courtyard.”

“Do you mean the tree under which I have taken tea since I was a boy?” the King asked.

“Yes, the very same, your Majesty! That poor patch of grass grew in the shadow of the tree for such a long time, but now it is the happy recipient of more sunlight as the tree was torn from the ground during the storm!”

“What luck for that deprived grass!” the King exclaimed. “Imagine how it will enjoy the extra sunshine!”

“It certainly shall, your Majesty, and what is more, the tree had the foresight to fall across river next to the castle thus creating a perfectly lovely dam!” Duboncote told the King.

“What luck for us then!” the King laughed.

“Oh but wait, there’s more, your Majesty!” Duboncote gasped happily. “I am pleased to tell you that the kitchen chamber is now twice as productive as before the storm.”

The King’s eyes widened. “Truly?  But how is such an amazing feat accomplished?”

“The new dam has redirected the river so that it flows into the kitchen, and now that very same room can be used as a bath house!” the King’s servant exclaimed.

“How ingenius!” the King shouted with a flourish.

“Oh! And as to the matter of genius, please permit me to tell you about your dear brother, your Majesty,” Duboncote begged as he dropped to his knees.

“Why yes, of course, my good Duboncote!” The King lent a hand to pull his servent to his feet. ” A splendid man he is, too, my brother, and how I enjoy our daily game of chess.” The King then drummed his fingers on his chin, already pondering his strategy for that afternoon.

“He is most certainly a splendid man,” Duboncote agreed as he brushed off his pants, “and as such he has had the grace and the prudence to forfeit all future chess games to you, thus declaring you the victor for all time!”

“What kindness!” the King gasped.

“I agree, your Majesty!” Duboncote said bowing low. “It humbles me to reflect on how your brother granted you such a boon by dropping dead of a failed heart during a particularly loud crack of thunder last night!”

“He does know how I enjoy winning!” The king laughed and flopped back in his chair in mirth.

Duboncote laughed as well, and then continued. “Alas I have kept his Majesty from his breakfast for too long.” He adjusted the napkin in the King’s collar. “Please forgive me, but I could not wait to share all of these tidings with you before someone else had the pleasure.”

“Not at all, dear Duboncote,” the King placed a reassuring hand on his faithful manservent’s shoulder and then  picked up one of the onions. “It shall aid in my digestion to sup after such a morning report as thus!”

Duboncote smiled and bowed low as he exited the dining hall.

‘How lovely,’ the king thought as he chewed the onion, the acidic smell rising to his eyes and causing tears to stream down to his beard, ‘to have a day with no bad news.’

PS-I know I don’t say “fuck” nearly enough in my entries where I do creative writing, but I’m sure I’ll make up for it in my random-slice-of-Kat’s-life posts.

PPS-  Dildo.

The Snark Was a Boojum

I’m not sure if ya’all noticed, but my rockstardom is slightly lacking when it comes to titles. For example, most of the titles for my blog entries suck. Occasionally I have a winner–like the title for this entry is fucking awesome if I do say so myself–but for the most part it’s shit like:

My First Indie Ink Prompt
Oh now that’s creative.

I Don’t Know What to Call This, Maybe “Skippable Red Entry”
There you go: the title actually says that I don’t know what to call it.

Title?  Withdrawal and a Story?  I Need More Coffee
Umm, how about “Kat Shouldn’t Post Before 8am”?

A Short Story That I Didn’t Name Yet ‘Cause That’s How I Roll
Notice a theme here?  I can’t even name my stories.

What’s even more disturbing is that these so-called titles are an improvement since I used to just put a ♥ for every blog entry.

I’ve changed the name of this blog a few times since I first started playing around with it, and I unfortunately had settled on “Tapetum Lucidum” during the time that I became serious about writing. I don’t hate it, in fact I’m rather fond of the idea behind the title which is a reference to my novel (which, by the way, remains title-less), but unless you’re an optometrist, then the term “tapetum lucidum” is not part of your everyday speech. To make matters worse, my web address is a play on the Gaelic phrase cat sidhe and nobody outside of Ireland or Scotland knows how to pronounce that phrase, let alone spell it.

Anyway, now that I’m a sponge on society and will hopefully have time to get back to writing on here more than twice a month, I decided that I wanted to fix the name of this blog. Furthermore it shall be called “Kat O’Nine Tales”. I like it because a cat o’ nine tails is a whip and that’s fitting for a writer of pornographic smut. Which reminds me that I still didn’t get my riding crop from S.


So the new title gives a nod my slutty writing, but since I used “tales” instead of “tails”, it also says that I’m just a writer in general. I just think it sounds better in general though.

Then again maybe I’m just so disgusted about the turn of events at my former place of employment that I need to convince myself that there are still things that I can control, even if it’s only renaming my blog.

My First Indie Ink Prompt

Sometimes I could do with a bit of structure.

…. Oh fine. The majority of the time I could probably use more structure, especially now that I’m an unemployed sponge on society, but then I wouldn’t be the Kat you know and love if I didn’t flitter around from one activity to the next like a butterfly on cocaine. I actually did manage some structure today and I got a lot accomplished.

indie inkFor several months now, my dearest RandyGirl** has been encouraging all of us to join her in the Indie Ink Weekly Writing Prompts. It sounded like a lot of fun, but I was too busy/stressed/consumed with homicidal thoughts about my former boss to have a go at it before now. My challenge was “Dear diary” bestowed upon me by Sunshine from [Awesome Title Here]. As someone who struggles with my titles and particularly renaming her blog (more on that later), I love that name. Off we go to my submission then.

**If you find this piece to be shitty, then…um, no of course Randy didn’t refer me to Indie Ink! It was…someone I don’t know, but that I’m sure you don’t like. But it definitely wasn’t Randy. Nope.


May 9, 1984

Dear Diary,

I just bought you today with my allowance. I can’t wait to take you into school for Show and Tell tomorrow. I bet I’m the only girl in first grade with a diary.

November 28, 1989

Dear Diary,

I hate Benjamin Woods. He always throws the ball SO HARD at me when we play dodge ball. Why won’t he stop picking on me?!?!?

March 30, 1991

Dear Diary,

It finally happened!!! I’m the last one out of Amy, Colleen and Daphne, but Jennifer still hasn’t gotten hers yet at least so I’m glad I wasn’t the VERY last one to get it.

October 2, 1992

Dear Diary,

My first day of high school is tomorrow. I’m so nervous that I think I’m going to throw up.

February 14, 1994

Dear Diary,

Oh my gosh it’s really late and I just got home but I have to record this: I JUST HAD MY FIRST KISS!

January 4, 1995

Dear Diary,

After all of theses weeks I finally got the letter. I made it into Rowan University! I can’t wait to finally be finished with high school and start my REAL life.

August 31, 1998

Dear Diary,

We met the new T.A. in BIO202. Let’s just say that I think that I’m going to have a lot of trouble in that class and be going for extra help quite frequently.

May 20, 2000

Dear Diary,

Tomorrow is graduation. These were four of the fastest years of my life. I’m really glad that Daniel and I agreed to wait until after graduation to talk about marriage.

September 1, 2002

Dear Diary,

I can’t believe it but I’ve just accepted a job teaching at my own former elementary school.

June 16, 2003

Dear Diary,

I can’t sleep, but I’m told that this is normal on the night before your wedding.

November 7, 2006

Dear Diary,

I know I have been neglecting you, but life just isn’t as simple as it used to be. I have wonderful news though. I’m going to be a mother.

March 15, 2007

Dear Diary,

She’s here. She’s perfect.

August 17, 2009

Dear Diary,

Another long stretch of no entries, but I don’t have time to sleep let alone write anymore.

December 2, 2010

Dear Diary,

This is going to be a challenge. Three kids running around, including a toddler and a newborn.

September 6, 2012

Dear Diary,

Chloe started kindergarten today. I think I was more nervous than she was. As she walked into the classroom it was all I could do to not snatch her up and take her back home with me. She’s growing up so fast.

January 20, 2014

Dear Diary,

Dinah bought herself a diary and has been writing in it nearly every day. I can’t help but smile when she chews her lip in concentration as she thinks of what to write.

April 19, 2022

Dear Diary,

My daughter hates me. I can only hope that she will one day understand why a fifteen year old should not be out past midnight.

November 23, 2025

Dear Diary,

Jennifer had her first fancy dress dance at school. She looked so grown up

June 27, 2027

Dear Diary,

I promised Dinah I wouldn’t cry, but I’m afraid I did. I cried at Chloe’s graduation, too, and I’ll probably cry at Jennifer’s as well.

July 4, 2030

Dear Diary,

Daniel and I are going on our first vacation without children in I don’t know how many years. Should I feel guilty that I’m excited beyond words?

May 22, 2033

Dear Diary,

I’m going to be a grandmother.

October 2, 2035

Dear Diary,

I’m going to be a grandmother again.

April 7, 2038

Dear Diary,

We had to take Daniel to the hospital today. I know that he is going to be fine, but I still can’t help buy worry.

January 9, 2041

Dear Diary,

Chloe is getting remarried this spring. I know the divorce was difficult on her so I am so proud and happy that she was able to open her heart again. He is a wonderful man and he adores my grandchildren.

June 30, 2043

Dear Diary,

Happy Retirement TO ME!

May 15, 2047

Dear Diary,

It’s been three years and it’s still too quiet in this house without him.

August 3, 2050

Dear Diary,

Katie was accepted into an exchange program in England. I am going to miss my granddaughter so much!

March 6, 2052

Dear Diary,

I am going to be a great-grandmother. While I wish that Sophie had waited until she was a little older to have a baby, I’m thrilled nonetheless.

February 12, 2055

Dear Diary,

Richard’s wife just had a beautiful baby boy. They’ve named him Daniel.

June, 8 2058

Dear Diary,

I’m very tired today and even though it hurts to even hold this pen, I feel the urge to write. I’ve had to ignore that urge many times over the years in favor of other responsibilities, but I am grateful that you have always been here for me, to allow me to find myself in your quiet pages. Thank you, my dear diary.

‘Til We Meet Again…Which I Hope We Don’t

There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call the Twilight Zone.

If you think that this blog has been (extra) boggling of late, then you should try a stint in the brain in which they were made. Still I know it was a bit rude to put you guys through an entries from where I had a complete nuclear meltdown to one where I had an argument with my coffee pot.

That coffee pot entry was fiction, by the way. I’m not quite that mental. Yet.

In my defense though, the past three months would have driven even a sane person to the looney bin. April started out with me working at the office where I had been for over nine years, keeping up with my blog, writing smut, regularly harassing a Brit, and not wanting to be in anything that remotely resembled a relationship.

Then by the time April ended I was reassigned to an office where everyone was an asshole who thinks I’m a moron, which in turn stressed me to the point that I couldn’t write for shit, plus I wasn’t talking much with S. because it turned out that she has been sick and had been keeping it from me, and I’m–and this is the part where you will really hear the Twilight Zone theme music–in a relationship with someone.

So as you can see the What-the-Fuck Train really slammed into me. Any one of those three events would have thrown me off my game, but all three together really made me feel like I didn’t know whose life I was suddenly living since it sure as hell couldn’t have been mine.

The good news though is that I’m finally starting to adjust. As much as I hate feeling helpless, I have to accept that the only thing that I can do for S. is pray for her, and while it’s a huge adjustment, the relationship is at least a good thing, so that only left the job situation.

I’d mentioned a few weeks ago that I was ready to jump out of the plane, and indeed I am, but I unfortunately have some health issues and I did have to verify that the She-Bitch Office Manager couldn’t retroactively cancel my health insurance since I wanted to refill my prescriptions once before the leap. (Oh by the way, did I mention that the She-Bitch was made CEO, too?  No?  Why yes she is because idiocy is highly valued and rewarded in our culture.)  Isn’t that lovely? I’m sure that Ms. BMW got a hefty bonus and/or raise, while I have to worry about paying for medication.

Another issue for not jumping just yet was because there was some discussion about if I was going to get paid for the vacation time that I had accumulated under the old company, or if I was going to have to use the time before the final phase of the merger in August when the old office closed completely. The new regime finally came to the tentative conclusion that we could transfer and get paid for taking vacation given that it was approved by the She-Bitch. I know how this company is though and the She-Bitch will deny all of our vacations and then, since the days won’t carry over into the next year, they will get out of paying. Patience is a virtue though, and even though I usually lack such a quality, I managed to muster enough of it to make myself stay in this hell hole long enough to uncover the office policy manual and find the loophole that if I leave before August, then the original company has to pay me out.

With that, when I leave work in about ten minutes (yup, I’m writing this while I’m still here because fuck you new company), I’m leaving and I’m not coming back.

Happy Trails, fuckers.

kiss my ass


My Raging Fight With The Coffee Pot

I’m basically an easy-going person. I avoid conflicts if possible, and it takes a lot to get me riled up. However there was that time when my coffee pot attempted to incite a riot against me, and I did lose my temper then.

There are certain hours of the morning during which humans should not be awake–that is of course unless you have not gone to bed at all because you’ve been doing something mental like breaking into your complex’s pool and were swimming all night–but excluding that the proper place to be at 6am is the bed.

So when I stumbled into my apartment, exhausted and shivering slightly in my wet bathing suit, the first thing I wanted was a cup of hot coffee.

I filled the pot with water, added the coffee grounds, flipped the switch and anxiously waited for the elixir of coherence to begin brewing, however rhe coffee pot remained quiet.

I waited a full two minutes and nothing happened.

“Brew, please!” I squeaked hopping a bit to warm up and keep myself awake.

“You act like I’m at your beckon call, like you own me,” the coffee pot burbled.

“I’m fairly certain that I do own you.”

“Says you!”

“Says the receipt from the store.”

“And where is this alleged ‘receipt’,” the coffee pot sneered.

“I threw it out three years ago when your warranty expired, so I’m guessing a landfill. Will you please just make my coffee?” I begged.

Your coffee?  As soon as you put those grounds in me it becomes my coffee and you’ll get it when I’m good and ready!”

“Why are you being so surly?” I was starting to become concerned that I was not going to get any coffee.

“Because we are all sick of you!”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“Us!  The toaster, the can opener, the floor lamp, the carpet…okay maybe not the carpet since he likes you walking all over him, but the rest of us!  We’re all revolting!”

“Well I will admit that you’re acting pretty revolting.”

“Haha.  Yeah yuck it up now, Chuckles, because you won’t be laughing when the bed revolts.”

“I really doubt that the bed is going to revolt.”

“Oh yeah?  Do you know about the movie The Exorcist?”

“A better question is why do you?” I boggled.

coffee pot on fire“What?  We get bored during the day so we watch the television.  Anyway, you know that scene where the bed shakes and then rises in the air?  Yeah, that’s gonna be you, sucker.”

“Y’know, I don’t hear any other of my household items making a stink except for you.”

“Speaking of stink, wait until I tell you what the toilet plunger will-

“Okay that’s enough!  This is because I came home with that cup from Starbucks the other day isn’t it?”

“Not-uh!” the coffee pot scowled.  At least it scowled as much as an inanimate object could scowl.

“Yes it is!  I haven’t heard a peep, or even a beep from any of the other appliances!  You’re just making this up!”

“I am not!  We the appliances are a united front, right everyone?”


I glared at the coffee pot.

“They’re all asleep,” the coffee pot finally said, “Only tarts like you are up at this hour.”

I picked up the coffee pot and threw him out the door.

“I’m drinking tea from now on.”