Ladies, I'd just love to write a special erotic story for our readers at FemPower, and as usual my head is just brimming with naughty ideas. Ah, but which one should I write about? I'm opening this up to an audience vote, so leave your comments below:
A male steward services a female passenger on an airplane.
A male submissive seduces a potential female mistress. (No hard bondage; just not into that)
A male model seduces a female photographer
Just let me know...
Hugs,
Meg
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Happy Easter
From everyone at FemPower, we want to wish everyone a very happy Easter and a blessed spring holiday!
Best,
Megan Hussey
Best,
Megan Hussey
Friday, April 2, 2010
FemIssue: Reproductive Rights
Women’s Issues: Reproductive Rights
Dark greetings to all of my wonderful readers! No Male Fail this week, I’m afraid. This time, I will be highlighting a personal issue that faces each of us. For me, this very issue has been a constant struggle for the last fifteen years. Some of you may smirk in disbelief at what I have to say, and, that’s your right. Just try to keep an open mind, is all I ask.
I have known I didn’t want to have kids ever since I was thirteen years old. I know, that’s a very young age to make such a decision, but, I knew it to be true. When I first started seeing an OB/GYN a few years later, I asked about getting a hysterectomy. The doctor was very nice and informed me that I was too young (then sixteen) to be considered for such a thing. I accepted that and continued to ask every year that I went back, with the same answer being given each time.
I hit the age of twenty one, and at that time, I was sure they would at least consider me. By then, I had a new doctor (the one I had before retired), so I thought maybe this time I would get a positive answer. This answer was, however, no better. She informed me that getting the operation before age thirty is highly unlikely barring a medical issue. Now, I find that very cruel of the medical community to have such a standard. I have said I would sign any and all waivers on the matter, and even file a notice with an attorney to give them the peace of mind that I won’t change my mind years later and try to sue them. I was crushed, but, continued on.
Fast-forward now to just after my twenty seventh birthday. I no longer live in the same state as before, and my new doctor seems open-minded. I ask her about the operation, and she tells me that unless I’ve had a child and/or are married and preferably over the age of thirty two, I won’t be considered for the surgery (again, barring a medical problem.) I was stunned. Completely, and absolutely stunned.
Lets look at the big picture for a moment. Our wonderful planet Earth is overpopulated. She can’t support our great numbers anymore. Some may say that its all part of Creator’s plan and whatnot, and I can’t and won’t argue with that. But at the same time, the more people that arrive, the more strain it puts on the planet herself. I would think that a woman who has not changed her mind in fifteen years should be able to make a choice like having a hysterectomy without so much red tape. (To put this in perspective even more, consider this: I was able to have major plastic surgery at age eighteen without anything more than the opinions of two plastic surgeons.)
So what gives? Why is it that a teenager can have extensive plastic surgery but a young woman can’t have a surgery just as extensive that would end needless monthly misery and a dependency on pills? I understand that after such surgery, one is required to have hormone replacements, and that’s all well and fine. Such things have come a long way over the past several years and I’m fine with having to do such.
So I ask again: What gives? Why can’t a grown woman, who is informed and more than sure about her decision on this get this resolved? If you plan on answering with something along the lines of “Oh you might change your mind someday when you meet someone special and then you might want to have kids with them” just stuff it. I’ve heard that so much over my life that I’m actually sickened by such answers. So if you plan on answering with something like that, save yourself a thrashing in the comments section and just don’t reply.
Have a happy and safe bunny weekend everyone!
-Selestine
Editor's Note: As someone who is single and childless by choice, I heartily applaud Selestine's words. It's about time someone said this, and leave it to my sister friend Selestine to say it right! Hugs and happy Easter, Megan
Dark greetings to all of my wonderful readers! No Male Fail this week, I’m afraid. This time, I will be highlighting a personal issue that faces each of us. For me, this very issue has been a constant struggle for the last fifteen years. Some of you may smirk in disbelief at what I have to say, and, that’s your right. Just try to keep an open mind, is all I ask.
I have known I didn’t want to have kids ever since I was thirteen years old. I know, that’s a very young age to make such a decision, but, I knew it to be true. When I first started seeing an OB/GYN a few years later, I asked about getting a hysterectomy. The doctor was very nice and informed me that I was too young (then sixteen) to be considered for such a thing. I accepted that and continued to ask every year that I went back, with the same answer being given each time.
I hit the age of twenty one, and at that time, I was sure they would at least consider me. By then, I had a new doctor (the one I had before retired), so I thought maybe this time I would get a positive answer. This answer was, however, no better. She informed me that getting the operation before age thirty is highly unlikely barring a medical issue. Now, I find that very cruel of the medical community to have such a standard. I have said I would sign any and all waivers on the matter, and even file a notice with an attorney to give them the peace of mind that I won’t change my mind years later and try to sue them. I was crushed, but, continued on.
Fast-forward now to just after my twenty seventh birthday. I no longer live in the same state as before, and my new doctor seems open-minded. I ask her about the operation, and she tells me that unless I’ve had a child and/or are married and preferably over the age of thirty two, I won’t be considered for the surgery (again, barring a medical problem.) I was stunned. Completely, and absolutely stunned.
Lets look at the big picture for a moment. Our wonderful planet Earth is overpopulated. She can’t support our great numbers anymore. Some may say that its all part of Creator’s plan and whatnot, and I can’t and won’t argue with that. But at the same time, the more people that arrive, the more strain it puts on the planet herself. I would think that a woman who has not changed her mind in fifteen years should be able to make a choice like having a hysterectomy without so much red tape. (To put this in perspective even more, consider this: I was able to have major plastic surgery at age eighteen without anything more than the opinions of two plastic surgeons.)
So what gives? Why is it that a teenager can have extensive plastic surgery but a young woman can’t have a surgery just as extensive that would end needless monthly misery and a dependency on pills? I understand that after such surgery, one is required to have hormone replacements, and that’s all well and fine. Such things have come a long way over the past several years and I’m fine with having to do such.
So I ask again: What gives? Why can’t a grown woman, who is informed and more than sure about her decision on this get this resolved? If you plan on answering with something along the lines of “Oh you might change your mind someday when you meet someone special and then you might want to have kids with them” just stuff it. I’ve heard that so much over my life that I’m actually sickened by such answers. So if you plan on answering with something like that, save yourself a thrashing in the comments section and just don’t reply.
Have a happy and safe bunny weekend everyone!
-Selestine
Editor's Note: As someone who is single and childless by choice, I heartily applaud Selestine's words. It's about time someone said this, and leave it to my sister friend Selestine to say it right! Hugs and happy Easter, Megan
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
FemPost News: Love Scenes on DVD
It was way back in college when I first discovered the Love Scenes videos; sensual softcore productions that brought women's fantasies beautifully to life. After seeing an ad in Playgirl for the first Love Scenes video, I bought that puppy up pronto; primarily because the advert promised to show me Danny Celaya, one of my all-time favorite Playgirl models, "Like I'd never seen him before."
Oh yeah,and how! Indeed, the four Love Scenes films--directed by Ron Lawson, an absolute sweetheart I had the pleasure of speaking to once--showcased any number of Playgirl models, Chippendales and other delicious dudes in an array of yummy fantasies; everything from a scene that features a Vegas dancer auditioning for a lucky female casting director (and he really, REALLY wants the part:) to an extended sequence that involves a woman being treated to a most unique birthday party--one featuring hunkified (is that a word?) birthday gifts that unwrap themselves!
I was recently pleased to discover that all four Love Scenes films have finally been released in DVD format, though for some unearthly reason they can't be shipped to my home state of Florida (Waaaaaah! The humanity!:). Oh well, the rest of you ladies can check them out at www.lovescenes.net. Enjoy, and Danny Celaya forever!:)
Hugs,
Meg
Fempinions Male Fail
Because sometimes, having a dick can make you become one
Brought to you by the Queen of Sarcasm, Selestine
Welcome back my lovely readers! Its time for another round of Male Fail, and like last week, this week the edition features encounters from my workplace. However, this week, I am also including a Female Fail as well. So grab your favorite bottle of vodka, make sure its at least half full, and enjoy this latest edition!
Scene: At Work
It was a very busy day at work, and my customers for the most part were very polite and even friendly. However, about my fifth customer into the day, I encountered Rude Ass 1 (aka RA1). I was standing at one of the mixing stations with five gallons of paint in front of me, all in a row waiting to have tint added. Can number one was just being positioned under the tint dispenser when I hear a *thunk* above me. I initiate the dispenser and look to see what was up.
A guy had was standing there with a gallon of Brand D paint in flat in the UPW base. Now, customers are supposed to come to the front of the counter to place an order, but for whatever reason, this guy just didn’t do so.
Me: Uhm… may I help you?
RA1: Yeah, I need a gallon of Autumn Leaves in a gallon of this right here.
Me: Okay. Are you sure that that color requires a UPW base?
RA1: Yes!
Me: Alright, I’ll get to it in about five minutes. I’m a bit backed up right now.
RA1: Fine.
Once again, we absolutely prefer that customers do not bring us the can. While it’s a nice gesture, nine times out of ten, we’re brought the wrong can, which means we have to haul it back to the shelf. Anyway, I finished up with the five gallons that were in front of me and proceed to work on RA1’s order. Sure enough, the base required for his paint was not UPW. It was M base (aka medium base). So I haul that can away and bring back the correct one. I mix his order and get it shaken.
When I removed the can from the shaker, he suddenly became upset.
RA1: That’s not the can I brought you!
Me: That’s correct sir. Its not. You brought me a can of Brand D paint in flat in the UPW base. However, for the color you wanted, the correct base is M. So I had to swap out the cans.
RA1: But I told you that was the right can.
Me: You did, however unfortunately, you were mistaken.
I proceed to open the can and show it to him. He waves it off, so I seal it back up and wish him a good day, smile and all.
Scene: At Work
And now its two hours after RA1’s exit. Its time for Rude Ass 2 (aka RA2). This guy has what I call the “I’m old and therefore people have to kiss my ass” attitude. Personally, I don’t care how old someone is, because if you’re a prick, then you’re a prick, age be damned. I’m all about respecting elders, but I will not bow down to a rotten attitude.
I’m standing at the computer that’s at the front counter, adding seven different orders to the system. The customers who placed those orders were instructed to return in about ten to fifteen minutes. While entering the orders, an elderly guy comes up to the counter.
Me: Hi sir. Are you all set?
RA2: Well, I will be once you get me some paint!
I pause in the middle of my work, smile a bit, and then continue.
Me: Alright. I have seven orders ahead of you, but I’ll go ahead and take your order and add it to the queue.
He hands me an order tag and I enter it and hand it back to him. Of course, I did his order, all of one quart, dead last. As its in the shaker, he comes up to the counter again and tries to make small talk.
RA2: That’s a nice yellow I’m reordering.
Me: Erm… I didn’t mix a yellow for you, sir. You asked for Ivory.
RA2: No I didn’t! It was yellow!
He goes digging in his wallet and retrieves the order tag. My guess is that he didn’t even bother to look at the tag before handing it to me because I don’t even think he knew what he handed me in the first place. The paint finishes up and I show it to him.
RA2: That’s good, I guess.
Have a nice day, jackass!
Scene: At Work
And now I present to you a Female Fail! Yes, I had an encounter worthy of mention here, and its not horrid, but, its good for an eye roll at the very least.
Female Shopper (FS for short) comes strolling to the paint counter with her grandson in tow. She hands me a paint swatch from a company that I’m guessing has long since gone out of business and wants a gallon of it.
FS: Oh I haven’t purchased paint in over twenty years! I’m not sure what to get.
She didn’t look a day over sixty, for the record. Anyway, I get some more information about her project and I get her to settle on a finish/sheen. She went with Brand D, so I enter it into the system, print out a tag for her and a tag for me, and I get the gallon down. As I put the label on the can and get ready to open it to add the tint, she suddenly stops me.
FS: Have you mixed it yet?
Me: No ma’am, I haven’t. I’m about to.
FS: Oh hold on a moment!
She proceeds to begin looking at color swatches. Eh… hello? I’m not going to have other customers wait around while you meander around the color stations. At one point, she stops at the colors for the Brand R paint and pulls a color from there.
FS: So, can I have this color in Brand D paint?
Me: Yes, you can. I can color match it.
FS: Have you mixed that other one?
Me: No, you told me to wait.
FS: Okay good! I don’t want that. I want a quart of it, and I want a quart of this color I just picked out. What the heck, right? Nothing ventured nothing gained!
Me: Alright.
I begin the task of scraping off the tag (which is not easy for someone like me who has soft nails) and as I turn to the computer to change the order, she starts talking again.
FS: Oh this is such a lovely color.
(She was talking about the Brand R color she had just picked out).
Me: Yes it is. Now, I need that swatch so I can color match it.
FS: Oh no, you don’t!
Me: Uh… yes I-
FS: Nevermind. I’m going with my original order.
I grit my teeth, manage a sigh through it, and re-print a new tag and mix her paint.
That’s all for now folks. Be well and stay sane!
- Selestine
Brought to you by the Queen of Sarcasm, Selestine
Welcome back my lovely readers! Its time for another round of Male Fail, and like last week, this week the edition features encounters from my workplace. However, this week, I am also including a Female Fail as well. So grab your favorite bottle of vodka, make sure its at least half full, and enjoy this latest edition!
Scene: At Work
It was a very busy day at work, and my customers for the most part were very polite and even friendly. However, about my fifth customer into the day, I encountered Rude Ass 1 (aka RA1). I was standing at one of the mixing stations with five gallons of paint in front of me, all in a row waiting to have tint added. Can number one was just being positioned under the tint dispenser when I hear a *thunk* above me. I initiate the dispenser and look to see what was up.
A guy had was standing there with a gallon of Brand D paint in flat in the UPW base. Now, customers are supposed to come to the front of the counter to place an order, but for whatever reason, this guy just didn’t do so.
Me: Uhm… may I help you?
RA1: Yeah, I need a gallon of Autumn Leaves in a gallon of this right here.
Me: Okay. Are you sure that that color requires a UPW base?
RA1: Yes!
Me: Alright, I’ll get to it in about five minutes. I’m a bit backed up right now.
RA1: Fine.
Once again, we absolutely prefer that customers do not bring us the can. While it’s a nice gesture, nine times out of ten, we’re brought the wrong can, which means we have to haul it back to the shelf. Anyway, I finished up with the five gallons that were in front of me and proceed to work on RA1’s order. Sure enough, the base required for his paint was not UPW. It was M base (aka medium base). So I haul that can away and bring back the correct one. I mix his order and get it shaken.
When I removed the can from the shaker, he suddenly became upset.
RA1: That’s not the can I brought you!
Me: That’s correct sir. Its not. You brought me a can of Brand D paint in flat in the UPW base. However, for the color you wanted, the correct base is M. So I had to swap out the cans.
RA1: But I told you that was the right can.
Me: You did, however unfortunately, you were mistaken.
I proceed to open the can and show it to him. He waves it off, so I seal it back up and wish him a good day, smile and all.
Scene: At Work
And now its two hours after RA1’s exit. Its time for Rude Ass 2 (aka RA2). This guy has what I call the “I’m old and therefore people have to kiss my ass” attitude. Personally, I don’t care how old someone is, because if you’re a prick, then you’re a prick, age be damned. I’m all about respecting elders, but I will not bow down to a rotten attitude.
I’m standing at the computer that’s at the front counter, adding seven different orders to the system. The customers who placed those orders were instructed to return in about ten to fifteen minutes. While entering the orders, an elderly guy comes up to the counter.
Me: Hi sir. Are you all set?
RA2: Well, I will be once you get me some paint!
I pause in the middle of my work, smile a bit, and then continue.
Me: Alright. I have seven orders ahead of you, but I’ll go ahead and take your order and add it to the queue.
He hands me an order tag and I enter it and hand it back to him. Of course, I did his order, all of one quart, dead last. As its in the shaker, he comes up to the counter again and tries to make small talk.
RA2: That’s a nice yellow I’m reordering.
Me: Erm… I didn’t mix a yellow for you, sir. You asked for Ivory.
RA2: No I didn’t! It was yellow!
He goes digging in his wallet and retrieves the order tag. My guess is that he didn’t even bother to look at the tag before handing it to me because I don’t even think he knew what he handed me in the first place. The paint finishes up and I show it to him.
RA2: That’s good, I guess.
Have a nice day, jackass!
Scene: At Work
And now I present to you a Female Fail! Yes, I had an encounter worthy of mention here, and its not horrid, but, its good for an eye roll at the very least.
Female Shopper (FS for short) comes strolling to the paint counter with her grandson in tow. She hands me a paint swatch from a company that I’m guessing has long since gone out of business and wants a gallon of it.
FS: Oh I haven’t purchased paint in over twenty years! I’m not sure what to get.
She didn’t look a day over sixty, for the record. Anyway, I get some more information about her project and I get her to settle on a finish/sheen. She went with Brand D, so I enter it into the system, print out a tag for her and a tag for me, and I get the gallon down. As I put the label on the can and get ready to open it to add the tint, she suddenly stops me.
FS: Have you mixed it yet?
Me: No ma’am, I haven’t. I’m about to.
FS: Oh hold on a moment!
She proceeds to begin looking at color swatches. Eh… hello? I’m not going to have other customers wait around while you meander around the color stations. At one point, she stops at the colors for the Brand R paint and pulls a color from there.
FS: So, can I have this color in Brand D paint?
Me: Yes, you can. I can color match it.
FS: Have you mixed that other one?
Me: No, you told me to wait.
FS: Okay good! I don’t want that. I want a quart of it, and I want a quart of this color I just picked out. What the heck, right? Nothing ventured nothing gained!
Me: Alright.
I begin the task of scraping off the tag (which is not easy for someone like me who has soft nails) and as I turn to the computer to change the order, she starts talking again.
FS: Oh this is such a lovely color.
(She was talking about the Brand R color she had just picked out).
Me: Yes it is. Now, I need that swatch so I can color match it.
FS: Oh no, you don’t!
Me: Uh… yes I-
FS: Nevermind. I’m going with my original order.
I grit my teeth, manage a sigh through it, and re-print a new tag and mix her paint.
That’s all for now folks. Be well and stay sane!
- Selestine
Friday, March 26, 2010
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