Shit That SHOULD Be In The Thrift Store!

Today I went out for Poutine and Tea. All by myself. Yes I did.

You'd think I'd be weirder about a secretish current addiction, but I'm not really. It will pass. I'm sure.

Anyway, I sit alone and write. I do this probably more often than the average bear. I like sitting by myself.

Today, the little dish that the milkers for my tea arrived in was... bizarre and cute.

 I swear. I glanced at them, and then really LOOKED:

 OMG. Little Ping Pong players. And, all different. And then I imagined some woman sitting in a factory, painting these little guys on. Day in, day out. Over and over. I totally almost asked the waitress if she'd sell it to me. And if this ended up in the thrift store, I would TOTALLY buy it. But, my girlfriend Gigi just came over to the house and purged a bunch of my kitchen STUFF, so filling it all back in would probably not be productive.

 I finished the entire plate of poutine. I think this is supposed to be a family sharing serving. What Evah. I do belly dancing tummy rolls while I sit here and type all the time anyway. Totally makes up for it.

Grace.

Reindeer Hooves.

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Pretty Men in Corsets.

What do you do when a Pretty Young Man comes into the Thrift Store and inquires about corsets?

Well, first you tell that Pretty Young Man in your sexiest voice that yes indeed you own corsets personally, but there are none in the store. Then when that Pretty Young Man asks you many questions, you give him ALL the advice, and then some. And when he gives you a website to check out, you do that. Being sure to maintain eye contact.

And when the Pretty Young Man comes back the next day, and you are OFCOURSE NOW wearing your corset and he tells you it is very sexy, you purr and smile. And when that Pretty Young Man shows you his tablet and all sorts corsets to choose from on an online store, you help him make a purchase based on what will fit his delightful torso, and what will give him the waist training results he's looking for. From as close to his person as you can reasonably get, all the while trying to quietly breathe in the smell of his skin and sweat.

And when he comes back AGAIN on the same day to show you what he has chosen, and to thank you for being SO cool and knowledgable, you flirt just a little, breasts jutting out thanks to an amazing push up bra and the lift of your own sexy steel boned corset.

And then you tell him that he MUST show you the end result, and he agrees completely. And you suggest very casually that you would gladly help him lace it up for the first time and get it ready for conditioning, and squeal a little inside when he agrees that would be wonderful help. 

And after that, you try to encourage him to put on a pair of heels. And pray to the Deviant Goddess that drives you like a sleek sexy car, that the Pretty Young Man is of legal age.

I fucking love my job. I love adventure. And I love a beautiful man dressed in sexy women's garb.

Ann. Tissa. Pashion.
Frankenfurter, you've RUINED me. Or made me better. 

*shivers*

Grace.