Thursday, August 27, 2015

Pretty flowers

Of course, there are often pretty flowers in my room.  A girl like me likes pretty things, so why not flowers.  Of course, a girl "like me" isn't particularly good at...well, much.  Which of course means that they often struggle to last more than week.  I am always careful to over- or under-water the flowers, because someone like me just doesn't think about things like that.

There was that time I didn't manage to kill the flower in time.  Ever sit in a field, doing "he loves me, he loves me not"?  With a bouquet of daisies?   I have.

Tuesday, August 25, 2015


Well, I bet you can imagine what my  life has been like in the last 24 hours.   My favorite band EVER split, and Master has been very helpful.   He put on all the videos of them I own ("I know you'll want to watch them all"), reminded me that I have great memories ("I'm sure you'll want to try on every bit of their merchandise today, and have a little fashion show"), let me some time ("I think you'll be crying enough to use all these tissues"), and let me get the misery out ("several sad poems, I'm sure.")

Master is so thoughftul.

Monday, August 24, 2015

Summer reading

Of course I wasn't allowed to begin my summer reading until tonight, and it's due tomorrow.  Girls "like me" don't do work ahead of time.   Master says looking cute is way more important than dumb skool and he's right.

Another reason I won't get a good grade on this dumb essay about some dead person I'm reading about is that Master only gave me the book after he cut the outer inch off the pages!   I have to say why Mister Whoever is such a big deal, and like every sentence goes "and he was the first person to" .. cut off page. 


Thursday, August 20, 2015

Cheer Camp, Part II

Earlier, I described Master's cheer camp, but I left off what the last week was like.  That's because he went all out.

See, apparently at the camp Master invented -- and God knows what movie he watched to get the idea -- there is an annual tradition.

I woke up on Friday, and hanging from one of the posts of my bed was an old football jersey.  All I had to go on was a last name, Hinson, and the number 43.  Apparently, this is how the boys in football camp "claimed" their girls at my cheer camp.   So of course I spent the day in the jersey, which smelled of man sweat and draped ridiculously on me.

But, see, that's just for the other girls.  As Master instructed, I spent much of the day constructing a cute outfit the was customized.  So I spent much of the day decorating a coral blue tank top (prominent legend: My Heart Hammers 4 Hinson) and shorts to wear.  Then, in the evening I went out to a spot in the backyard that was designated "kissing rock", and following rules, stood there, blindfolded, and smiling starting at 5:30.

Of course you know what's next...Master gets home from work and plants one on me.

But that didn't happen.  I heard the car pull up, Master walking around, perhaps chuckling and then...the door closing.  The instructions were specific, so I stayed where I was with my best cheer smile planted on, all done up to be extra cute.  I knew if I cheated I'd be in huge trouble.   But as the mosquitos discovered me, I confess: I lifted the blindfold.  And there on a paper right in front of me the message "I'm standing you up...sorry, I thought you were cuter.  Friends?"

So you know what happened next.   We all know what was expected of me.   I squatted down and cried until the door opened.

Ah, camp memories.   Bet I'm going back next year.

Monday, August 17, 2015

Cheer Camp, Part I

So Master sent me to cheer camp this summer.  Not really, but he did make me do some things that are very cheer camp-y.  And it was huge fun!  (Not really).   I took a week off from work, and I was given a few simple rules:

Be awake and ready when he checks in at 8:30am.   Ready means made up, in the outfit he picked out, having eaten breakfast and smiling.
Then while on Skype I opened the envelope for the day he left behind.  Most days were pretty similar:
-Learn three routines on YouTube by the end of the day.  That took a lot of my time, especially at the end of the week.  Some of the ones that he'd picked out were HARD!   And it doesn't help that I had to change each cheer to my team, the Knights.  Making new rhymes that worked was so impossible.
-Finish the day's craft.   I made so many friendship bracelets (don't know what happened to them!)  Also some fun hair things.  Lots of decorating cheer bows.
-Write today's letter home.   So I had to give Master a letter about how much fun I was having and how much I learned.
-Keep the BW journal.   I had to fill up a page in the "boy watching" journal describing what I saw the cuties across the lake doing every day.   And of course, there were old photos of Master that served as inspiration.
-Go through today's crisis.  A little drama girl like me is always having a crisis.  For example, I had to text Master I couldn't find my cheer bracelet, and rifle off twenty texts in an hour asking for where it could have been.   Tough coming up with more than five!

Then there was the final week...ugh.   More on that later.

Thursday, August 13, 2015

Omegle Adventures

A recently posted about the limits I'm coming up against in my quest for self-humiliation.  There is a reluctance of people to actively embarrass another, I think especially one who seems to be vulnerable.  On the other hand, I am unready to bring my pink sparkly self for a walk through Times Square.

There may be a compromise.

I got inspiration from this person's YouTube videos, where s/he goes on Omegle and welcomes or invites laughter from women looking at his sissy outfits and behavior.   Intriguing I thought...he is direct, and gets good results.

Well, first of all, only about 10% of Omegle users are women.   And of those, half struggle with a conversation.   Annnnyway, I'm still perfecting my approach.  However, early tests seem promising, when I get the chance to do this.   It does require privacy not just to type, but to make noise, so things are slow going.   But this may have some potential.   More to back to our regular fictional diet. :)

Monday, August 10, 2015

It's broooooken

So, one aspect that Master has made clear to me in many ways is my helplessness in many situations that the fake (male) me, doesn't have.  And one of those cases is when anything breaks.  I'm helpless and hopeless when my computer does something weird, per Master's instructions.  Of course, it doesn't help that there are passwords and changed filenames all over the place, meaning I am somewhat helpless despite myself.

Increasingly, this applies to other stuff as well.   I used to be good with tools, but now?  Nope.  Master did get me a pink-handled toolset that I am to use, but of course I don't know what I'm doing.  I only have a scrwedriver of "one type" when I need "the other one".  Plus the "claw thingy" is hard to rotate (I swear he gummed it up), and with my need to avoid chipping a nail at any cost, I'm pretty helpless.

Which explains how I've been locked in the bathroom for an hour now.  But at least I have a lot of selfies.

Friday, August 7, 2015


The following is all truth, based on a recent encounter.  I think I've hit a limit in terms of public display.

As longtime readers may know, one of my favorite approaches to public humiliation is to dress up as my girlie self, call ahead to a store or takeout place, hoping a woman will answer.  I place an order, then "warn" them that the person coming in is a guy dressed as a girl, and he should have to do something, sing or dance or whatever, to complete his mission.   The idea is to give "permission" to service employees to mock a customer.

So recently I went into a pizza place after having called ahead.   After being observed and laughed at by the guy who was manning the register (sadly), I paid for the item -- which was wonderfully slow in being prepared.  The guy looked at me and said "and I'm told you have a song to sing for us?" and I answered "I'd rather not..."

Now, I guess in my world he would say "well, then you don't get anything!" and force my hand.  But as most people are trying to be good people and do the nice thing, he just nodded and said no problem.  They always do that.  I mean, maybe someday I'll find someone in customer service who enjoys making the customer squirm, but I haven't yet.  I think this is an understandable limit.

It's partially my fault, too.  As I was waiting for my item, the door behind me opened and another customer came in.  I don't know what he looked or sounded like because I didn't move a muscle.  He would have been fertile ground for humiliation, or perhaps he'd have beaten me down for my transgressive clothing and makeup.  I'll never know.

Seems like this has gone as far as it will, and has become a limit for me.  I'm exploring the whole webcam angle a bit more -- something for a later post.  But for now, the public thing doesn't seem to be there. 

Thursday, August 6, 2015


So, of course, Master believes that I am scared of lightning.   Which means during the summer that I am to always be a bit jumpy when there are grey clouds about.   I'm also expected to high-tail it it into the inside any time a flash is seen, even off of a porch or relaxed sunroom.   Master does laugh so when I go inside due to a flash of lightning miles away, hiding from something that I only have to seem afraid of.

Monday, August 3, 2015


With all the forums and clubs and all that that Master has me subscribe to, one of the hardest parts is the usernames.  There are so many sites, and Master insists that I have a different username.   For example, on one site my username is Gigglez___06_   Of course, can I remember how many underscores that is?  No.  And if I don't update on these sites, I get in trouble.  If I have to request my username, Master sees it as he controls my email and I get in trouble.

Seems I'm always in stupid trouble.