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Who says German can’t be a sexy language?

Ich bin der Reiter
Du bist das Ross
Ich steige auf
Wir reiten los
Du stöhnst 
Ich sag dir vor
Ein Elefant im Nadelöhr

Rein Raus!

Ich bin der Reiter
Du bist das Ross
Ich hab den Schlüssel
Du hast das Schloß
Die Tür geht auf 
Ich trete ein
Das Leben kann so prachtvoll sein

Rein Raus!

Tiefer, tiefer!
Sag es, sag es laut!
Tiefer, tiefer!
Ich fühl mich wohl in deiner Haut 
Und tausend Elefanten brechen aus

Der Ritt war kurz
Es tut mir leid
Ich steige ab 
Hab keine Zeit
Muss jetzt zu den anderen Pferden
Wollen auch geritten werden

Rein Raus!

Rein (tiefer!)
Raus (tiefer!)

I’m simply a lady with very particular taste, is all


I find myself asking this every single time I log into Tumblr, whereupon my Dashboard is flooded with whatever porn pics and gifs seem to be making the rounds for the day. I think I need to broaden my interests a bit and start following blogs about kittens or flowers or something equally aesthetically pleasing.

The SFW Pussy Posse

The very first thing that showed up on my Dashboard after I logged into Tumblr was pussy. The vagina kind, I mean. There are two people that I follow whose posts consist of roughly 20% audios and 80% porn, and since they post a lot of porn, their pictures are usually at the forefront of my Dashboard. And it’s not that I’m complaining or anything. In fact, I see that one meagre picture of pussy and raise them 4 additional pictures of pussy, but of a different variety.

You’ve already seen my little ginger in the post below, so here’s a picture of my other handsome boy:


I spend all this money on fancy cat toys, and his favourite thing to play with is some string I bought from the dollar store. Just as I was about to berate him for it, he changed his expression…


…to this. Which is essentially when I decided to just back the hell off and let him do his own thing. (Look at those teeth, for fuck’s sake! Friendliest cat you’ll ever meet, though.)

Then there’s this lovely lady:


I don’t actually own her myself, but I do sponsor her at the small (and woefully underfunded) animal shelter in the town where I work. They have a great program there where people can sponsor animals that are considered “unadoptable”, usually because of advanced age, chronic illness, or behavioural problems. This is a senior who was brought in as a stray, and the poor girl was quite malnourished. I’ve visited her a few times in the shelter after work, and while she’s gaining weight and has a good appetite, she’s still very thin. I would’ve adopted her myself, but I’m worried that my cats would give her a hard time, and she’s too fragile to take on the both of them.

And to round off the group:


This is a young sassy calico that I’m sponsoring at the same shelter. She looks pretty mean in this picture, and she’s admittedly unadoptable due to behavioural issues. Although she loves being pet, she’ll bite anyone who tries to pick her up, so she’s basically a no-no for any household with young children. I don’t know if she was ever abused by her former owners (I hope not), but she certainly can’t help her tendency to lash out. I would’ve adopted her as well, but I’m worried that my cats wouldn’t be able to take on her if she ever went after them.

Anyway, those are the fine felines of the House of Feuerlilie! Stay tuned for future updates about any additional cats I acquire, because this will be me in a little over a decade from now:


You have to admit, it’s not a bad way to end up, right?

Something to make this blog a little less depressing…

If this doesn’t put a smile on your face, you’re probably a terrible person.

I get the nose boop myself every morning from one of my little guys. Too bad he has an affinity for 5 am, which is a solid hour and a half before I need to wake up for work. I would ban him from my bedroom, but who could get mad at a face like this?

If you could get mad at a face like this, you’re also probably a terrible person.

I wish I was making stuff like this up

I was working the graveyard shift last night (I’m in the health care profession, which sometimes involves shift work in the hospital). While I rushing around from patient to patient, I heard a vaguely familiar voice say, “So, how’s the car doing?”

I turned around to see the T-1000 police officer who had grilled me at the scene of the accident sitting behind me. Although he was smiling (which is only the second time I’ve seen him smile), my first thought was that he had decided to press charges after all and was here to haul my ass straight to jail without passing Go and collecting $200. I could feel my bladder on the verge of spasming (cops are an excellent diuretic, I find), so I quickly stammered, “Th-the car? Oh, it’s, uh, it’s fine, I g-guess. The repair shop estimated that it has, um, you know, $3800 in damage, so that’s, uh, yeah…that’s not very fun.”

I didn’t know what else to say, so I started to apologize for not recognizing him and saying hello sooner (I figure you can’t really apologize too much to a police officer, right?). He laughed (!) and said, “Nah, don’t worry about it. I know your job is busy. I’m here on the job, too.”

He was here on the job, too? I thought. Fuck, I hope his “job” isn’t to read me my Miranda rights as he handcuffs me and takes me to the police station to charge me with damage of property or vehicular insanity, or whatever it’s called.

Luckily he stepped aside to reveal a man who was handcuffed to one of the hospital beds, screaming and swearing like a sailor. The guy was clearly high on something other than life, so I figured that the police had brought him to the hospital to be cleared medically before throwing him in the slammer for the night.

"Oh. Well, um, it’s nice to see you again. Thanks for, you know, for all of your help," I mumbled. I then quickly excused myself before I said something unintentionally incriminating or accidentally pissed my pants.

These have been some very unusual days, indeed. If life would just go back to normal, that would be super.

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