Archive for the ‘Mobile Mistress’ Category

Charlie’s ‘Winning’ at Polyamoury?

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So, the Sheenster’s disgraced his father’s name, fucked off his prime-time hit show (and the massive salary that came with it) and moved in two porn stars, (one of which is huge headliner, Bree Olson) with whom he’s openly saying he’s in a relationship — with both of them.

Wowzer. I’m not exactly sure what’s going on here, but I am certain that he himself has said he’s involved with both of the women who share his abode.

Welcome to Los Angeles.

Now, after awhile, if you get truly adventurous and ignore ‘the rules’, life can seem even more like a Sims game than it is already.

Witness ….

In Sims, you can easily build a house big enough to accommodate lots of folk, (in which I’m feverishly engaged at current — microcosmic architecture in third-dimensional space = love) and, depending upon which of them are Flirty, Schmoozer, or even Great Kisser (’cause then they want to show their skillz, yo) — it matters little if they were macking on SimChick1 five minutes ago; just as soon as she goes to work, it’s time to Woo-Hoo with SimChick2.

Nope. Not joking. Now, some Sims can have a jealousy streak, and WILL cut a bitch. But. Some Sims … won’t really care. Allow me to introduce you to Sim!Lockwood, based off of the character from The 8th Square series, Dalston Lockwood. He’s … well … he’s a lot like Mister P. A LOT-a lot.

Before me, he was certainly down with however the pussy may be best accessed. They’d overlap sometimes, but he was always honest about it. While he never banged multiple chicks in the same household, reality-TV style, Lockwood has the option, and will take the liberties.

Aforementioned liberties taken in recent memory include the crazy Tweedle sister, ‘D’, Natalie Kendall (very ‘Valley’ blonde; also think ‘boobs’, as I’m sure that’s what he was thinking!) and the occasional night with his ex Cathryn. So, yeah. Three chicks, one dick — a surprising amount of fucking.

Now, the evolved programming in the latest edition of the Sims series, Sims3, includes the ability to control the presence or absence of relationships, of various levels and kinds, which develop naturally on their own, too. And, as to be expected, unless the Sim has a possessive personality, they’re able to form relationships with as many people as they want — with everyone aware of each other.

Wow. Poly, much?

I’m just amused by everything going on with Charlie Sheen, his having a pretty damned obviously open, poly relationship with two women — one of whom he’s gotten out of porn, and is now using her legal name again after how many years? — and how the media is reacting.

Where most of us in the LA kink scene are shrugging and going, ‘Oh, okay. Well … good for them.’ Genuinely. I wonder how that’s going to go. They seem happy. I’m very glad to see that.

Maybe the crazy man really IS ‘winning’. Heh.

Hey! Viva Las Vegas. Almost there.

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Leaving Las Vegas … with Lights So Bright …

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Thoughts while driving down the 15:

I can’t decide which is sexier; the exclusive Vegas ‘Phantom’ production at The Phantom Theatre in The Venetian, or the fact my fiance owns the original mid-eighties Crawford-Brightman recording from Broadway, and can basically recite the whole thing.

Maybe it’s that I only found this out on the trip back. Had no idea during. How lucky am I to be able to share intricate details about my first favourite theatrical production with my lover and best friend? He really enjoyed it, too. The cast was pitch-perfect, and the production incredible. We were pretty floored.

So, in case you guys were wondering – it’s not gay, or pussy, or anything else you fear – to be a straight man enjoying musical theatre; especially with a woman. Won’t make you a pussy. If anything, it’ll get you some. Really. And Phantom is a fucking pussy magnet. We bitches love that shit! Why, you ask? Because it’s good. And the Vegas show is the best, most faithful and entertaining I’ve ever seen.

And, yes. The fact that I can actually share it with him makes it – and him – incredibly fucking sexy. Take a page. Stop being a homophobe and get some culture. Might even score. And we know that’s enough to motivate you. Asshole.

If you’re playing anything but BlackJack in Vegas, you’re practically giving the casino your money. If you’re playing slots or Roulette, you’re bending over and patiently waiting to get fucked by the house. Get a clue.

Nothing beats the Bellagio. Nothing. Still.

Steve Wynn is a fucking genius. Genius. But why he has to start building in Philadelphia beats the hell out of me.

The CityCentre is still a ridiculously overblown investment, and MGM is a more compulsive gambler than most schmucks in Vegas. But it IS pretty. And the card sculptures around the poker room, clearly inspired by John Tenniel’s original illustrations in ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’ had me fangirling out. So did Phantom.

Anthony Crivello is all that and a bagga chips. Such a ham. Perfect.

My head is killing me.

The Rio is awesome. Three cheers for comps.

Mister P’s ass is sore from sitting on his wallet with so many hundreds. While hardly physically masochistic, I’ll wager that’s his favourite sort of discomfort.

Snowy mountains are so beautiful.

I hope my voice is going to be strong enough for ‘Think of Me’ at the Ash Camarazzi karaoke birthday bash. Vegas is too fucking cold to forget a jacket. Eh, got a few days. Only issue was the cadenza anyway. Should I go more Brightman or Holden? Damn, she was excellent. Best Christine I’ve seen yet. Too bad I have such a Rossum tone naturally. But with the version performed by Holden in Vegas, it just might be awesome. Guess I should practise when we get home. After more scripting, of course.

Venetian is lovely. It’s certainly no Bellagio, but I’d enjoy dining at The Grand Luxe Cafe more often. Maybe taking in some more sights.

Rose gold, definitely. Split shank. One for my engagement ring, one for my wedding band. Interlocking, faux puzzle style. Two stones, gallery set at each end. Moissanite. Duh. Not quite 2 carat. But more than 1.5.

Goddamn, the snow is beautiful. He thinks so, too.

I bet he’s glad he never took that job in Hesperia. There’s nothing here! It’s hardly worth coming out here to do a college lecture, too. Two hour drive? Thanks, but … No. Fuck off.

I hate migraines. Time to catch a nap.

Schumacher is pretty hit or miss. Loved the Vegas cast, but have to admit. Minnie Driver remains my favourite Carlotta.

Howard Stern is so great. Love his honesty. And wit.

‘Pretty mountainscape over there.’ Wow. God. It IS. Purple majesty, indeed. And frosted with glistening white. Summit disappearing against the sky. Wow.

Los Angeles. 66 miles out. Nice.

Man, I love Bellagio. Everything about it. And being carded! Wooo! Almost 30, bitches!

Ears popping. A lot. Ow.

Palazzo Suites are so nice. Too bad Prince doesn’t live there anymore. I can see why he stayed as long as he did.

Damn. I’m tired. He looks so fucking hot. I hate migraines.

Mmm. Snowy mountains.

More ear-popping. Stern. Sleepy. His hands feel nice. I love holding hands in the car. He’s such a great man. I am one lucky bitch.

L.A. about 50 miles out.

Wonder if I’ll go to Passive tomorrow. … Maybe.