Random Rim Jobs
I swear. True story.My Buddy Ozzie (Part 2)
Posted on March 13, 2011[Continued from "My Buddy Ozzie (Part 1)."]
Because Ozzie didn’t bother to proofread what he wrote me after I made clear that I care about that sort of thing, I just had to write back. Also, I like to get someone’s goat.
After I finished correcting your atrocious grammar, I got in bed with my partner, and he proceeded to fuck me. We both had lovely orgasms. Thank you for asking.
What makes you think I’m a “loser”? That I was up at 2am? Perhaps I’m a night person. Perhaps I work nights. I do have a life and part of what brings me pleasure is to tell men who post on Craig’s List that they’d be more likely to get laid if they used proper grammar and spelling. Straight women looking at Craig’s List can afford to be picky since they are far outnumbered by straight men so any little reason to write someone off as stupid, or pathetic, or overambitious in his desires can and will move on.
I am not at all bitter. I am, however, realistic. I am not currently single, but I’d be just as happy if I were. Being single is not a bad thing. I know I did not include a photo with my note, so I’m not sure why you feel you can judge my looks or my weight. I have gotten laid. Not only did I get laid last night, as I said above, but I have been laid several times over since first getting laid when I was 16. I do currently have someone significant in my life, as I’ve said, but do not feel that having him in my life – though it is a wonderful thing – makes my life complete, as I am a complete person both with and without him.
Get ready to be shocked, buddy: Those eight responses will result in nothing. Some are from men. Some are spam. Some are from women who are not emotionally available and/or have a kid or two but hope you’ll look past that. I’ve been doing this Craig’s List thing for a while and to have only eight responses really is quite sad. I have placed ads that have gotten literally hundreds of responses.
How could I be obsessed with someone I know absolutely nothing about other than that he’s a shitty writer? I am not jealous of your writing skills, nor am I jealous of your lame email address.
Again, if I were Ozzie, I probably would have let it go, but Ozzie appears to be the type who has to get the last word. Two people can play that game, and he’s giving me material.
Are you still writing me?? Whats up with this pathetic obssesion you have with me?? I am not interested in a losers like you! My friends at working are laughing at your email. They say you sound so pathetic and your probably a lonley cat lady with several hitachis. 100 responses my ass! Your homely you know it. Your as scouldnt get a date. Thats why you are surfing craigslist all day bitch! I have a heavy duty shovel for all the bullshit that spewed out of your mouth in your last email. Staying up till 2am and critizing craigslist posts????? Are you kidding me? WHAT A FUCKING LOSER YOU ARE!!! Who the fuck do you think you are bitch!! Stop obssesing over me and get back to your fucking cats……..Beeeyotch!!
His writing kept getting worse, and of course I felt the need to address it. I also had to address the fact that he made certain assumptions about me.
To be continued ….
I swear. True story.
I Have a Sponsor!
Posted on March 01, 2011I’ve been sponsored. With money!
Y’all have been seeing the ads down the right column of Random Rim Jobs for years now, and I’m sure most of you assumed that I was getting paid to display them. Y’all would have been wrong. I have “affiliate” relationships with several companies, which means if you click on the ads and then purchase something from the sites and if the sales are above a certain amount for a few months in a row that I’ll get paid. If any of those requirements aren’t fulfilled, I get nothing. I’ve never been paid for any of the ads I’ve placed on Random Rim Jobs.
But now I’m getting paid to place a text ad for sex toys for Eden Fantasys and I think it’s great. I should be paid, dammit. It would be wonderful if Random Rim Jobs were profitable. I’ve been listening to a several podcasts for years and two of them – “Keith & the Girl” and “Distorted View Daily” in particular – have become self-sustaining. What went from hobbies in the beginning went to careers eventually. Both of those podcasts’ hosts are able to support themselves strictly on funds from donations or subscriptions or merchandise, some of which I’ve contributed.
It would be great if I were able to pay my bills and such strictly from my daily work on Random Rim Jobs. I write daily, dammit. Most podcasts only post five days a week; I post seven days a week, 365 days a year. It’s true I post daily, the actual definition of “daily.” I know Random Rim Jobs is just one of many “sex blogs” and mine doesn’t stand out all that much, but I honestly don’t know of any others that actually post every damn day of the year. (Go ahead, look at my stats.) Every fucking day.
So go ahead and click on the link up there to the right, and buy some sex toys. I like wands Pure and Magic, both of which do a very good job of making me come. The Pure Wand may seem expensive but after you do the math, you’ll realize it’s one of the cheapest toys out there because it will last forever – it’s pure stainless steel – and give consistent results. Also, because it can be sterilized or encondomed, it can be shared. Cost per orgasm is mere pennies.
The Magic Wand is just great. I’m still on my first one, and I use it daily. I love not having to worry about batteries because my Magic Wand is always plugged in and ready to go. Sure, it’d be worthless on a camping trip or in a blackout, but I have backups for those occasions.
Help me make cash and get yourself the sex toys you wanted anyway.
I swear. True story.
Organized!
Posted on February 14, 2011Since the move I’ve been doing a lot of purging. It’s been great to get rid of things we don’t need or want. A lot went to charity, some went in the trash, some I’ll take to the local UPS store. I shredded about ten years’ worth of my life which translated into three huge trash bags full of what is now packing materials. The guy at the UPS store said they could use the packing materials any time I wanted to bring them in. Good, because I hate wasting things.
I hate wasting things so much that I’ve sent my old TiVo to someone who said he wanted it. Gratis. He says he’ll reimburse me for the shipping, but I’m not holding my breath. I just hope he can get some use out of a perfectly good TiVo with lifetime service included. It had been sitting around literally collecting dust (which I did not bother removing before boxing up the machine) for 
years.
Some things just had to be thrown away because, well, it’s gross to use someone else’s sex toys unless you know the person and are using safer sex practices and all that. I’m pretty sure there are no charities that are willing to resell sex toys, even if they aren’t pre-used. So in the trash the toys had to go.
Why would I throw away sex toys?! Why would I throw away sex toys I had never used? (That one on its side is in original packaging.) Because I was organizing the Drawer O’ Sex. Some of the toys I had used and hated (the greenish thing at the bottom of the photo) while some I hadn’t bothered to use (those dongs are too small).
From our bedroom window we can see the alley beyond the back yard where trash cans for the buildings on our street are kept. I’ve seen people go through the trash, as happens in any urban area. And there are the trash collectors. And the various people who work in the refuse disposal business. Really, my discarded sex toys have a chance to be seen by many, many people before their final resting place under other refuse in a landfill. They’ll be especially easy to see since the trash bag I used was essentially a giant zip lock bag and 
therefore clear.
With the unneeded toys out of the way, I could organize the Drawer O’ Sex. Now there’s no need to dig around to find what we’re looking for since everything has a place. All the lube is in the front right. The glass toys are nestled in their padded pouches. My favorite dildo is in its tube up front. Over to the left is a series of long, skinny, bumpy things for the butt. Just to the right of those are the fun restraints including a roll of bondage tape. And the bag of safety pins … those are fun.
I swear. True story.
Haunted
Posted on February 08, 2011Unpacking everything from the old place has allowed me to purge and to find things I forgot I had. I’m not a hoarder by any means. My mother is a hoarder and my ex-husband was a pack rat, but I’ve never had any problem (except when I was depressed) getting rid of things I don’t need.
Because I don’t tend to keep things I don’t use I usually remember what I have. Physical things, that is. At this point I’m not sure what music I have because most of it I got simply by pushing a button. My memory works better when I can touch something physical.
That I found things I didn’t know I had was very unusual, but then I’ve been organizing and going through things I hadn’t looked at for years. I got used to things being in a certain places and stopped noticing them. Boxes and containers and drawers and cabinets all held things I hadn’t seen in ages – until we moved.
I’ve written about the shittiest year in my life, 2007. That was the year my mother’s partner assured my sister and me that she would take care of our mother and then mere weeks later kicked her out of the house they owned together. That was the year my then-husband’s younger brother died and the Ex was consequently fired for taking two weeks off work for some understandable grieving. That was the year I cheated on my husband for the last time and he left me because of it. That was the year I lost my job. That was the year I lost most of my friends. That was the year Jesús died.
It wasn’t all horrible because that was the year got Isis (because she was my mother’s and my mother no longer had a home) and it was the year I met DD, who has been a wonderful friend. But those two great things were hard to see through all the shit I was experiencing at the time.
When Jesús died, the Ex got a bunch of his stuff including a lot of furniture and clothing. I got a painting that Jesús did one day when he was helping the Ex and I get ready for a party. The Ex had gotten a couple of wooden canvas frames from a job site. He then bought canvas and stretched it himself – surprisingly, he didn’t do a shitty job. We were getting ready for a party and wanted to have something other than two blank canvases so the Ex painted one in shades of blue and Jesús painted the other in shades of brown. It’s an interesting, modern, abstract piece done by a lawyer with some artistic proclivities.
The only other thing of Jesús’s I got was a toothbrush that he used in the downstairs bathroom. That toothbrush has been sitting in the toothbrush holder next to my toothbrush and whoever else’s toothbrush happened to be there for over three years. It now lives in the same toothbrush cup next to my toothbrush and the Viking’s toothbrush in the front bathroom of our new place, a place Jesús could never have imagined I’d ever live.
I have some photos of Jesús from 2000, when I first met him, but otherwise very little to remember him by. However, while unpacking I found a couple more things I didn’t know I had. 
I found this picture, which was a tiny Polaroid photo that has sticky backing. Jesús was a good looking guy.
I also found another toothbrush that I’m pretty sure was his. I know it’s silly to keep the toothbrushes of a dead friend, but I do it anyway. I’m not positive this toothbrush was his, like I am about the other one. Starting some years ago I always kept a lot of spare toothbrushes in the house (Costco allows that) and whenever a friend needed to use one I’d give them one and then keep it at my place for the next time they needed it. I labeled the toothbrush by placing it in a zip lock baggie with a piece of paper on which I had written the name of the user. On every piece of paper I wrote the person’s name, usually while the toothbrush was being used.
However, on the piece of paper in with the toothbrush I suspect was Jesús’s the writing is not mine, and the name is not written out. Instead, in handwriting I don’t recognize, are initials, “J.V.” I cannot think of anyone other than Jesús with those initials I’ve known well enough to give a toothbrush so I’m assuming it was his. Yes, I will keep the toothbrush and the piece of paper.
I swear. True story.
My Fantasy Date with Shazam
Posted on February 06, 2011[This was submitted to me a long time ago. I didn't post it sooner because, well, I find it repulsive. But because I need material and because this is a good example of what I don't like, I thought I'd post it. Everything in italics is mine.]
At first, I’m a little shy – not the casual cool I tend to be – but her tweets and blog have gotten me hard and gotten me off so many times, I’m nervous. I also feel as though I need to impress her. I don’t want to be another run-of-the-mill blog-spot about how I was lame in bed when I try to get a hold of her for another encounter.
We go for drinks and I start to mellow out, relaxing and staring at her gorgeous ass is starting to give me a semi. I can’t take it anymore, I need to have her. I masturbated to the idea of the things I’d do to her last night. I was extremely excited but still maintained a nervous edge. Butterflies. Just be cool.
“Why don’t we get out of here and you can sit on my face?” I say, in my care-free tone, persuasive body movement. She’s a good little slut and agrees, we go back to my place.
Just as we enter the front door, we start making out. I’m not big on kissing, but people tell me I’m good at it.
I pull down her pants and her thong and spin her around, grab her hips and on my knees I start to lick her asshole, parting her ass cheeks with my hands and enjoying every single lick.
I lay down and pull her on top of me, her ass is smothering my face. It’s delicious, my cock begins growing in my pants and she reaches down and undoes them, moving my boxers aside to get to my raging cock – it’s small, 3.5 inches. I hope she doesn’t mind. [She does.]
She grabs and strokes it with her hand, but I reach under her and move her hand aside and hold her still. Enjoying her gorgeous ass.
After a few minutes I lift her up just enough so I can speak. “Now, you can suck it bitch!” She leans in and starts sucking [Uh, no she wouldn't.], I slide my tongue from her asshole to her delicious little pussy. She’s so moist and has an amazing aroma, just how I’d imagined it. I kiss her inner thigh, licking it and then suck on her pussy lips. She moans gently and finally I attack her clit with my tongue. Her mouth is so warm around my cock and she sucks it so well, I could cum [sic] instantly.
I lift her off of me and push her down on the floor, she gets up into the doggy style position and looks back and smiles. I twirl my index finger around her moist little asshole and then insert it. I insert a second finger and then a third, her asshole is soft and stretched [which he needn't have bothered to do considering the size of the penis]. She’s moaning gently and still smiling.
I bend down and shove my dick in her ass, fast with no remorse. She loves it, I know she does. She blogs about being an anal whore. The depths of her asshole are surprisingly tight. I fuck her, pulling her hair back and slamming my cock into her gorgeous ass. She’s screaming, she loves my cock [She would not love that cock.] – good for her. She’s behaving nicely. I could fuck her ass all day. I grab her hips and lift her up a little, slamming my cock into her harder and harder. She’s bucking.
Her pussy starts squirting onto my hard wood floor. [This is clearly a guy who doesn't understand pussies and squirting.] I pull my cock out of her insides [What a gross way to describe that.] and move to the couch. I bend over the couch and she instinctively gets on her knees and starts eating my asshole. She’s very well behaved. I reach back and hold her head in my ass. It’s never been eaten so well. I could come from this alone. She spits on her hand and reaches under me, grabbing my cock and stroking it in motion with her soft wet tongue. I don’t want to cum [sic]. I want it to last forever.
I stand up, she keeps eating my ass. Her tongue slides up and down my asshole. I move away and go to the closest and pull out a strapon, she smiles with glee. It’s 12 inches long and 3 inches wide. She reaches for it, but I hold onto it and shove it inside her wet cunt. She moans out but she takes the entire thing, I pound her with it while I rub her gorgeous tits.
Her pussy sprays again, all over the sofa this time. I’m going to need to hire a maid to clean up her puddles.
I give her the strap on and she fastens it to her waste [sic]. I lean down and suck on it, taking as much as I can until I gag. Getting it as wet as possible. I reach behind her while I suck it and finger her ass. Finally, I give her ass a swift smack and bend over the sofa. She pushes it in me and I could almost scream, I grab the couch. I’ve never been fucked before, but I want to impress her.
After a minute or two, it feels great. I start moaning, she tells me to stroke my cock and be a good bitch.
She keeps pounding, relentlessly. I’m going to cum [sic], I can’t hold it anymore.
I moan “I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” and she stops, ripping the brutal dildo [Oh, those brutal dildos!] out my ass and she bends over. I push it [Which "it," the dildo or his cock?] in her ass and shoot my load deep inside of her. [Oh, his cock, what there is of it.] She looks back smiling again and after my cum [sic] is drained into her ass she tells me to lay down. I do what I’m told. She squats over me. Her ass hovers over my face. She rests her hands on my stomach and asks if I’m ready. “Keep your mouth open,” she says.
I open my mouth and her asshole starts to pucker out. My cum [sic] comes dripping out of her ass and directly onto my tongue. I swallow it. It tastes amazing. She lowers her ass and I instinctively clean her asshole with my tongue. She’s still pushing and starts to piss on my chest. Uh, my best shirt but it was worth it.
She stands up and I stand up. She puts her pants on, fastens her shirt, leaving her panties on my floor for me to keep. She looks at me and gives me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. She smiles and walks away without saying anything, she walks out the front door. I hope she calls me back for a return encounter.
[Uh, gross. This would most definitely not be a good date for me.]
Museum Buddy (Part 2)
Posted on January 17, 2011
[Continued from "Museum Buddy (Part 1)."]
The guy who wanted to go to museums responded to me. He said that he had decided that I was interesting and that he and I should be friends. I didn’t learn until later that his decision was based on having Googled me. Googling me comes up with my Twitter stream and this blog, so I think that’s a good way to weed out the wimps; if you can’t handle that I write about sex and such then we needn’t be friends. At the same time, I am more than this blog or my Twitter stream.
I gave him my number and he called me. Though he woke me up we had a decent conversation and I thought – without Googling him – that we could be friends. He lived relatively close to me, but even closer to the fancy Whole Foods in the neighborhood, which we both agreed was ridiculous but nice to have around. We made plans to go to the Field Museum.
He picked me up and drove to the museum. The Field Museum is near Soldier Field and shares its very large parking structure. We had some trouble getting out of the structure because it was so large. But make it out of the parking structure and into the museum we did.
The museum was big and … old. The taxidermy looked like it was done about a hundred years ago. Sue, the museum’s T. rex, literally had cobwebs on her. That’s Sue there, and I purposely avoided getting cobwebs in the shot. The exhibits looked sad and sorely outdated.
My new friend and I commented on the various characteristics that looked ridiculous to us, but were all in furtherance of getting laid, nature’s great motivator.
We went through pretty quickly, but only the parts of the museum that were included in the regular admission. The Field Museum has exhibits that cost in addition to the general admission but since we weren’t that impressed with what we saw we didn’t want to pay more to be further disappointed.
My favorite part was the room with various kinds of gems. When I was a kid, my step-mother got a lot of Time-Life books on various subjects. One of my favorite ones to look at and read was on gems.
My new friend asked if I wanted to look at real estate porn with him. Then he corrected himself because real estate porn is what he does online. We were going to a real estate strip club, a staged apartment in a fancy high rise building not far from the museum. Sure, I like looking at apartments.
We were going to say we were a couple and were looking for a place for us, but he decided to go with his old standby and say he was looking for a place for his parents. The agent asked him his price range and he said he didn’t have one, after which she became significantly friendlier.
She kept saying that the building was very complicated and it was hard to explain. It’s a tall building with a lot of apartments, what’s so difficult about that? Of course each apartment is different. Of course the higher floors have a lot less square footage than the lower floors. I’m no architect, but I understand that high rises have some unique issues in a place known for wind and snow and such, and I’m pretty sure my new friend, also not an architect but well-educated and not a moron, knew that, too.
I wanted to see the naked girls … er, the staged apartment. Finally, after a lot of talk about the uniqueness of the building, we were in said building’s elevator being whisked up to the 50th floor.
The apartment was huge. The kitchen was giant. I liked the size of the kitchen – plenty of room for an island – and its fancy Wolf stove and Sub-Zero refrigerator, but the cabinets were absolutely hideous. They were of good quality – had the hinges that shut the drawers and cabinets softly – but the finish was a horrible distressed eggshell white. If I was to pay over a million dollars for a place the kitchen had better not look tacky.
The view was lovely and included the Field Museum, Soldier Field, and Lake Michigan to the east and Grant Park to the north; I’m sure at night it was beautiful. Sadly, the “neighborhood” around the building was all high rises; to get to anything one would need a car, so I guess the Viking and I won’t be taking the place.
My new friend (nickname forthcoming) dropped me at home. He let me keep the tote bag he got from the museum for becoming a member. I haven’t heard from him, but hopefully we’ll be hanging out at another museum in the city.
I swear. True story.
August 12, 1991: A Diary Entry
Posted on November 22, 201010:38 A.M.
Last night was the show at the Coconut Teazer. We (Karen, Laura, and I) got there really early but Henry was outside so I didn’t see him until just before they went on. I use people I’m with as a crutch. If I was alone, I would’ve had to go look for him. Oh well. The band playing when we got there, Wax, was pretty good. The next band, Glue, was rotten and the lead singer was a transvestite fag from hell. Ethyl Meatplow sounded a lot like Nitzer Ebb and the lead singer chick was pretty cute. There was a hot girl in the bathroom when Karen and I went. I was later to find out that she’s a friend of Killer’s. She had a cute face, cool hair, and a hot little bod. then for the Duchess, I went and stood up front so I could see better while Laura and Karen stayed where we were back a little further. So through the whole set I stayed up and watched Henry’s cute little face and agile little hands. The dancer chick with the gross body was by Henry and kept getting real close and rubbing up against him. She had a cute little, well, not little but smallish and poufy, butt and alright legs – no cellulite that I could see – but a yucky waist and belly – all chubby and not well-defined. So afterwords I went to where we were sitting but they weren’t there. I finally found them and they told me they had left. I was shocked and then Laura looked at me with a sneer and said , “You don’t like them, do you?” What the fuck? Yes, I do like them. Yes, I do like the songs and music and the scene and the people, what the fuck is it to her? She said she’d go see Ghost Story ’cause I’ve told her that they’re a lot different. I want friends who’ll go places with me. I want someone who’ll shock and surprise me and I don’t think it’s just me and Beth and Laura are fine. All those people who go to their shows can’t be wrong along with me, can they? So now I have to find a ride to Friday’s show. Oh, but Nicole said she’d go to that with me then spend the night and then go to her party Saturday night. Cool, but I work Saturday 12:30 – 5:30 and she probably has to go to set up for the soriee. then I have to work at Nautilus Sunday morning. I’m going to try to try to get out of that one by getting someone to work for me – I just have to remember and I have to call Nicole. August 11 food:
- 2 bagels
- yogurt-covered pretzels
- 2 nectarines
- lowfat milk shake-type thing
- chocolate and coffee candies
- wine cooler
- sex on the beach
At least I got some fruit in there. K.C. wants me to come into work today but I have stuff to do here and it’s my only whole day ff in a long time. Of course, I have Wednesday off but not the whole day ’cause of Nautilus. Laundry, called the L.A. Times, post office. Why can’t I have more money? I have to get a fogger.
8:44 p.m.
Henry says he’s gonna get one of the roadies to pull me up on stage, take my clothes off and make me lay down with my legs spread during whatever the song is that goes, “open up your big, fat pussy …”. He wouldn’t. But He said just because I said he wouldn’t, he’s going to. I would have to be so fucking drunk even though I know I could dance and play up there pretty well. But he said Barb would put the strap-on between my legs. I don’t know where that’s been but then I do too. The thought of being forced up there and my clothes forcibly taken off in front of an audience gets me off. All those people hot for me and the way I can move my body and to know that Henry’s watching and getting off really gets me going. I would be performing for him so that later he woldn’t be able to stop himself form fucking me – if I wanted to or not.
I have more sexual thoughts about Henry even though Sean has proven to be the more sexual of the two. But something about the pursuit. And watching Henry makes me hot – the way he’s so smooth and cool about everything so that when he does do or (especially) say something sexual it’s such a change that it must just be for me.
10:44 P.M.
They always start the same. You just walk in, don’t bother knocking. And see me lying on my stomach on the bed. It’s hot and I can’t sleep but before I get a chance to even say anything, you have roughly pulled my panties off. Then you run your hands up my inner thighs and spread my legs wide. You rub my buttocks and finally your fingers find that wet hole that is filled with the product of my excitement. Then your hard cock is rubbing between my ass cheeks while you whisper in my ear what a whore I am for leaving the door unlocked. You pull away to grab my hips and prop me on my knees, keeping them far apart. And you fill me. I can feel nothing but your hot, hard dick deep inside me as you’re thrusting again and again. Your right hand is making laps around my clit and your whole hand is wet form me. Then I’m coming and I can feel my whole body once again. The sweat on my face, the hot moisture on my thighs and buttocks and you . It comes out hot. I can feel it heat my insides up even more. You pull out and leave – I’ve never seen your face.
