HOW TO MAKE TEN MILLION DOLLARS WITH A RUBBER CHICKEN

If you want to know how to make ten million dollars with a rubber chicken I will tell you that it isn’t easy and it takes time. I will explain in further detail as I write this book, and the next one, and the next one. You see, the money is not really what’s important. It is the story about how I will make the money that matters. You will want to keep reading if you want to know how I succeed and I will succeed despite any failure. Failure is already my inevitable casualty.

What you need to know is that I was willing to lose everything for these words you are reading now. I did lose everything. My husband went first and I can’t really say that I blame him. The things I was writing (and posting) about him were emasculating and really no one’s business. My intent was not to be hurtful. My intent was to be real, as in, this is the way life really is. Welcome to relationships. Welcome to marriage.

Our marriage was a great friendship. I trusted it. I relied on it. If you want to know how it is I came to be successful in business with very little education I will tell you it was thanks to that love. My first husband never doubted my ability and he was willing to invest in it. “Go for it. What’s the worst that will happen?”

The worst that could happen was that I didn’t know anything about business when I started mine. The worst that could happen was that in the beginning I was not able to secure any mentors in my chosen field. The worst that could happen was that I opened my photography business before I knew what an F-stop is on a camera. The worst that could happen, happened. The worst happened again and again and again. The more the worst happened the better I became. I needed and continued to step-up my game, mostly on the account of wanting to avoid future pain.

Anguish. Business is a cruel and gratifying mistress. A seduction more soothing than any man I have ever been with or known. It is also crippling and unforgiving until I found myself broken and bent, obsessed with the puzzle of how to keep the whole thing going and growing. Until I was not a person anymore. I existed to feed the machine.

 

 

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SIR HUMPS A LOT: THE CATCH AND RELEASE MAN

Some men can’t be keepers and I knew he was that kind of man the first time I saw him at the gym. He did not know that I was watching him but I was. He was the only man in the room worth looking at and so I looked. I looked and I objectified because that is what you do when the world is a meat market.

I took off his clothes while I did my cardio. His ass was tight in his shorts so I pulled them down and off. Yes, much better. My mind liked him better naked but I wanted him to turn around so I could see the front side of him. How big are his shoes and what about his hands?

His hands were a nice size but by the time I got down to where his shoes should be he was naked again and all I could do was stare at his middle. The place where his shorts were making his ass look like apple dumplings and dinner. Dinner. I should have pizza for dinner.

Pizza sounded good and he was making things better. I was only eight minutes in to stair-mill hell, dripping sweat and needing some redemption, or fuel, or any kind of distraction that would keep me moving in my workout. Sex is a great workout. I Googled to find out how many calories I could be burning with “Sir Humps A lot.” The most popular answer was, “It depends on the position.”

Sir Humps A Lot. Now I am giggling through my workout. The liberals would be pissed about my objectification, but then who cares, I am a republican. If Donald Trump can grab them by the pussy then society certainly will not mind of I grab him by the dick? How would he react if I stopped doing cardio and went over to grab his dick? “No judgement zone. Women are equal… Remember?”

I like fitness because it releases my inner caveman and yes, I know that ladies should not talk like this. What can I say other than I am a product of my creation. The world is what it is and I am no exception. What do I know about cavemen other than that they liked to drag their women by the hair? I only like my hair pulled in the bedroom and if I am pulling yours my intent is to rip it from your scalp. I do not mess around when it comes to certain things and hair pulling is a certain thing. Not too many people get away with it in my world. It’s rare that I let myself be dominated.

Sir Humps A Lot is a dominate man. I could tell just by looking at him. He has the kind of body that made me want to climb him like a tree just to enjoy the vantage of being taller than myself. Gladiator. He could easily hold up in my ring, or at least he would until I dropped him to his knees to make him beg for more. More. I only had fifteen minutes more and my workout would be finished. Sir Humps A Lot was fine motivation, a pleasing reason to meet the goals I’ve set.