|This is supposed to represent me ravished by gratitude.|
Or, alternately, a lady passed out in marshmallow fluff.
That's how I feel today. Like I am a Japanese businessman who just had sex on a rock and...well, no, not that exactly, but my heart is full. It all started the other day with a comment from a new reader, DeliaDelish, who wrote, "I am so crying and peeing in my pants right now. I think your writing is going to cure my lifetime depression. I soooo thank you." Girl, I feel the same way--about the writing as cure for depression thing, that is, not the peeing. (though it is fun to contemplate that I could control people's urinary habits using only The Amazing Power Of Words--bwah ha ha!)
Every day one of y'all do something to make me just that less clinically depressed. Like, just this morning, reader Ed ended his comment with a P.P.S. that read simply, "cockstand." (It was genius, I tell you, and if you click here, you'll see why.) Another reader made some sort of off-color innuendo about furries and a bag of knobs. Now, that's the kind of thing I like to see in my inbox.
So here, let us commence with the gushing! (Clapping now to signal the beginning of the festivities.)
I am grateful to the multi-cultural, Benetton-esque, Rainbow Connection readership for In Bed With Married Women. Check out this map--from just one friggin' day!--that clearly indicates the worldwide need for urgent, up-to-the minute news on anal bleaching, inflatable cows that you fuck, and Manginas.
I am grateful to the lovely Asha, http://www.ashafullife.blogspot.com, for this blogging award. I don't really understand it, but it's an award and I'm kind of slutty about accepting stuff:
And thanks to the witty, ballsy, all-around top-notch Brit, The Barreness, who not only bestowed this upon me:
but also penned the best comment ever.
(Here's where it gets all awards-speechy. If you're going to flee, now's the time.)
I am grateful to:
--the people who have been brave enough to tell the truth about what's going on with their sex lives. I wish I could name you and tell everyone how open and generous and cool you were, but that would probably ruin the whole anonymous thing and you'd get all pissed off.
--the wee handful of people who have ordered stuff from Good Vibrations and Amazon using the links on In Bed With Married Women. I don't know who you kind and generous few are, but please know that each order made my whole fucking week.
--Tricia, who has donated ideas, endless encouragement and even cold hard cash.
-- Jennifer and Bill, for invaluable writing and visual advice and especially Bill, whose writing is so good, it literally makes my hands shake.
--Theresa, who kicked my ass into the modern age by teaching me what blogging even was, and for going WAY out of her comfort zone with my particular subject matter.
--Heather, author of the wonderful novel, The Perfect Age, who is just about the best unpaid writing psychologist/dog walking companion around.
--Leah, a delightful Canadian who is hilarious, racy and sends me gleefully inappropriate texts throughout the day.
--Sandra, who helped start this whole idea several years ago over furtive conversations about marriage and sex at Chuck E. Cheese.
--dear Molly, an inspiring, open-minded and all-around classy chick.
--Tim Grobaty, columnist for The Long Beach Press-Telegram, a fabulous writer who was brave enough to give In Bed With Married Women its first mention in the legitimate media.
--Stephenson Billings, who played the best/worse trick ever by referring to me as an Anal Bleaching Expert on the ultra-popular ChristWire site, thus ensuring that anyone who Googles me will see "Anal Bleaching Expert" forever linked with my name.
--the mysterious Belinda, my first follower.
--Chris and Leslie, the first Facebook fans that were not me, and the two Kims, plus Tina, who single-handedly rounded up a few dozen more.
--the commenters who keep things lively around here, including Enid Wilson, The Housewife, CkretsGalore, Kage, LampChop, Leah, NakedJaebird, Bogart4017, DanWins, the Beaver, FreeFlying, Kelp10, Mrs Midnight, the various and sundry Anonymouses, and especially, Cold As Heaven, who would comment back when barely anyone commented.
--my mother, who dutifully reads every post, though I suspect she'd much prefer that I was writing blistering screeds for The Nation, instead of posts about inflatable cows that you fuck.
--and my husband, who has just about the most embarrassing wife ever but seems okay with it.
If I didn't list you and you should have been on here, it's because I drank too much aspartame-laded soda in the 1980s and have the memory capacity of a flea. If you're not listed because you didn't go anything, well, do I have to draw you a map? Get going and do something to earn your keep around here.