All I Want for Christmas

All I want for Christmas are my friend's never-been-worn Fluevog "The Business" boots:

Fluevog "The Business" Boots

The caption says, "Let's face it, it's business time - and these new Body Parts take care of business like nothing else. With these luxurious beauties wrapping you in soft patent faux-reptile leathers lined in gold and laying you on a surprisingly comfortable 4" golden heel, attracting new business will be the least of your concerns."

The videos I could make in these boots. The cam work. Not to mention, the complete and total FUN of going to play parties in them!

My friend knows what I do for a living, and she has realized she'll never wear the boots, but she can't afford to give them to me for free. These boots deserve a great life, a life she cannot give them. They deserve better. They deserve to be treasure, adored, displayed, admired, and most of all: worn.

The boots retailed for $549. They are now discontinued, which makes them precious on ebay. She will sell them to me for $275 if I can promise her that much in the next 5 days... which is where you come in (if you wish to), because I don't have anywhere close to $275 to spare at the moment.

So, how can you help? Oh, look here, I have NiteFlirt tribute buttons! Well. Isn't that handy?

$50

$25

$10

Also, I can receive gifts via PayPal at galiana.chance@gmail.com for any amount.

If you contribute to the Fluevog boot fund, and I get the boots, I will send you "thank you" videos wearing them -- I'll make one video for all contributors with close ups and details. Then for people who contribute $50 or more, I'll also make a video especially for you with your name in it.

If I don't raise $275 and don't get these Fleuvog boots, I'll buy myself a less expensive pair of party boots with whatever I raise. Plus, I'll pout. A lot. It'll be tragic. Okay, no, it won't be tragic, but I will be sad at the missed opportunity.

I really want these boots. They make me feel funny in my tummy to think about wearing them. They're lace-up, knee-high, and dead fucking sexy.

I'll make a confession: the most expensive pair of shoes I have ever worn retailed for $130 (suede heels by Rockport, by far the most comfortable pair of heels I've ever worn, and I wore them every day when I briefly trained people how to use computers in 1996). These boots would quadruple that number, which is dizzying to contemplate.

Actually, neither of my wedding dresses even cost me $549, nor have any coats, no cocktail dresses... nope, nothing. Not even close. I paid $186 for a Laura Ashley bridesmaid dress in the 90s, but that's the most expensive piece of clothing I've owned so far. So these boots would become my most extravagantly luxurious item of clothing ever.

I think I'd have to take out a rider on my renters' insurance for them. That's awesome to consider, isn't it?

I should totally be wearing these for New Year's Eve. Make it happen, peeps.

New Cam Red Bra

In May, I got a lovely gift from a caller of a new camera, and we spent the evening taking low light test pictures in my Fuckatorium. I would send them to him, along with a description of which cam setting I used, and we decided on the optimum settings after it was all said and done.

I was wearing a red bra for all the pictures, and a red thong for about half of them (the other half I'm naked from the bra down). Most of them are from the back, because that is clearly his favorite view of me. /blush

The flash got overzealous in some:

Flash Washed Out

In others, there wasn't enough light at all:

Too Dark

This one was our second-favorite setting:

Runner Up

But the winner of the best resolution, detail, and actually my favorite picture of the night was like this:

The Winner

 That version of me looks like a hell of a lot of fun. I'd hit it.

There are 41 pictures in the set, all of which are at least 1024 pixels high or wide, some are larger.

Just $10 via Niteflirt:

Who's That Girly Girl (Part 3)

After writing yesterday's Girly Girl blog post, I remembered that I had $100 in SpaFinder gift certificates from a caller. Apparently, at his job, when you do awesome above-and-beyond things, they reward you with these points that you can cash in for gift certificates -- he used his to get me SpaFinder for a post-move stress-release massage. Please, by all means, continue to be awesome at work on my behalf!

Turns out, the place nearest to me that accepts those gift cards also has an exfoliating massage followed by a "Vichy Shower" which looks like this:

That's SEVEN shower heads. I was lying on a rubber mat (which totally made me want to go down a water slide) on a steel bed in a completely tiled room with drains in the floor. The massage therapist scrubbed my body with sea salt and marine botanicals, then rinsed me off with the awesome multi-headed shower thing, then slathered me with a moisture-sealing oil. Then I flipped over and repeated on my front side.

Before I flipped over, I informed her that I didn't care if she saw me naked, because I was a theater major, and I got used to changing in front of a lot of people (my standard line for such situations). She innocently asked, "Do you still do anything with theater?", and I realized that my standard line invites that question... I'll have to rethink that.

So I answered, "Uhhhhhmmmm, kinda, but if you're not in the mood to be shocked, I'll just keep the answer to myself." She practically squealed, "Now you HAVE to tell me!" and so I did, indeed, inform her that I'm a phone sex operator. Her enthusiastic response of, "OH MY GOD that's AWESOME... now I have a thousand questions!" totally made the experience even more fun.

Yes, I told her about you. You, specifically. I'm sure I did. :)


Afterwards, when I was all glowy and happy, with the softest, healthiest skin of my life, I took this picture in the spa robe specifically posed so I could post it on the blog:

I know, the picture quality on my phone is crap, but I'm sure I do a horrible job of holding still when my arms are all post-massage-noodley, and the picture looks fine on the little screen...

You're missing the point, anyway. The important thing here is how happy and relaxed I look! Gawlee!  /hrmph /grin

Afterwards, I desperately needed sexy hands rubbed over all my newly soft skin, so I asked my husband to oblige me, which he kindly did (yay me!). We had a fantastic afternoon romp, and then we went to dinner, which I decided merited a little dressing up (hippie style, of course - it takes more than just being massaged to get me into a cocktail dress), even though we went to a local Tex-Mex dive place where nobody cares what I look like:

The purple ball on the floor squeaks when bitten by rescue mutts. Loudly. So loudly that it is off limits when I'm on the phone. And although it would be lovely if the bed were mussed because of the afternoon hubby-tussling, really, the bed was the site of an epic face-biting puppy war over Who Gets The Purple Ball while I was getting dressed.

Dinner was fantastic, and I'm in an absolutely delicious mood for the evening. Yum.

And that, my friends, is the story of a lovely, girly afternoon of pampering, also known as: "Why I Have Moved SpaFinder Gift Certificates To The Top of My Wish List"

Presents!

Sometimes my callers want to give me gifts. Lately, I've gotten an unusually high amount of them.

Since I have a cam now, I made little videos of myself opening everything I've gotten in the past week. I figure it's good advertisement for my new cam listing too, right? I mean, just making a bunch of videos of myself isn't completely narcissistic, is it?

(Dear Inner Modest and Shy Girl: Please try to just keep your eyes closed more. All I can really offer you is denial. Sorry. Love, Galiana)

First: a thank you to the financial slave who bought me the camera, some Secrets In Lace lingerie, some amazing Carlos shoes, stuff to set up the Fuckatorium for cam, a new headset for cam calls, and some new hair / face stuff that I'm loving using. Here's me opening some of that (I didn't realize when I made it that Blogger would squish widescreen... sorry):

Then today, for Valentine's Day, I made 3 videos. The first was lingerie and pillowcases, and the chocolates my husband got me:

The second is 2 gifts I got in the mail, both of which make me feel good in different ways: the ItGetsBetter t-shirt, and a SpaFinder gift certificate.

And the last Valentine's Day gift-o-rama is a veritable boatload of stuff that will let me dress up and look a bit like a robot! I have a few fans in the technosexual / fembot fetish community who want me on video or cam. I'm still working on my movements, and not ready to demo those yet, but now I have clothes! /squee

I look happy in all these videos, and grateful, and both of things are true: I am both happy and grateful for them. And at the same time, I'm a tiny bit overwhelmed.

Remember at the end of A Streetcar Named Desire when Blanche tells the man who's coming to take her away that she has "always relied on the kindness of strangers"? I haven't. Not a bit. I've always relied on myself, always had a hard time asking for help, and always been stubbornly insistent on valuing *people* over *things*. I gave gifts much more freely and graciously than I accepted them.

And now I find myself in the position of completely relying on the kindness of strangers, and having to figure out how to be gracious about accepting things which will enhance my life, or help me grow my business. It's easiest if I can point to some way where "he'll get his money's worth out of this", but when someone gives me SpaFinder gift certificates so I can get a massage... well... there's not a lot there except for me to relax and enjoy myself, is there?

I'm working on it. I'm better. I'm down to only about 20% of the time now where I think "What the hell am I doing? What they hell are they doing? What the hell should I do when they wake up and regret this?!?" That's an improvement - at first it was more like 80%...

This is good for me. It's good for me to stretch and grow and learn how to do new things, like enjoy getting gifts without feeling guilty or indebted.

Thank you, gentlemen who have been getting me gifts. Thank you very much for the gifts, and thank you very much for helping me grow. /blowkiss

A Tale of Two Cards

Once upon a time, there was a young lady, who was not much of a lady, truth be told... and while we're admitting potentially unpleasant truths to ourselves, no longer that terribly young, either.

One day, this not-so-young not-so-much-a-lady went to the postmaster's to see what she had received from her legions of adoring fans, and found, much to her delight, two cards.

The first card was the kind of a card that a bank sends to someone when they have money available to spend; a credit card, some call it. The name on the front of the card was the name of a particularly adoring fan, who had signed a contract agreeing to let her buy herself gifts with the card each month for six months.

She loved the card very much, because it was a reminder of a relationship she enjoys very much.

The second card was the kind of card that a certain type of company makes when someone goes on their web site and designs it; a greeting card, some call it. The name on the front of the card was her name, spelled out in hearts, and the name on the inside of the card was the name of a particularly adoring fan, who had said it would not feel like Valentine's Day without sending her something.

She loved the card very much, because it was a reminder of a relationship she enjoys very much.

This not-so-young not-so-much-a-lady sat in her car for a moment in the parking lot, thinking about the ways her life had changed recently, the different ways love can show itself, what it means when people want to take of you, and how different the cards were, and yet how very much the same.

And then she smiled to herself, started her car, and drove off into the rest of her life, a little happier for having received Two Cards.

The End

Drive-By Christmas Treat

I've heard of "drive-by tributes" (where someone who has never been a caller, and never bought any of your pay-to-views, gives you a tribute out the blue), but never been fortunate enough to be the recipient of one.

(side note: Today I had to take the day off because I had a dental visit. My extreme dental phobia means it's best if I choose "conscious sedation" (a prescribed drug which ensures I remember nothing later), so I don't remember anything today from about 9:50 am to 4:15 pm.)

(side note continued: I joked that I should have been taking true confessions calls, because I wouldn't have remembered them anyway right? An excellent plan! ... Except for the part where I was also sound asleep for most of that time, including leaning over and falling asleep against the wall as my husband was trying to get me out of the dentist's office. Soooo, maybe just as well I didn't try to take calls.)


So imagine my pleasant surprise when my NiteFlirt email contained a drive-by tribute! There was a lovely treat, for a lovely amount, from someone who had never before been on my customer list.

And then imagine my happiness growing exponentially when I read the accompanying email... Turns out it wasn't so drive-by after all: "Creamy Treat", aka Chloe (a Flirt who has commented on my blog a few times, I pointed out a few suggestions on her blog, but we haven't interacted in weeks) instructed one of her pets to give me the Tribute as a Christmas treat!

How. Awesome. Is. That!?!

A very Merry Christmas back to you, Creamy Treat Chloe! And to all your admirers as well!

P.S. I wanted to ask Chloe if I could include her name in my blog, but was feeling too impatient to wait for her email reply, so I called her via NiteFlirt to ask (she said yes, obviously). In case you were wondering, her voice is ADORABLE.

Galiana In Virtual Water(color)

Oh my gosh. A caller read saw my virtual oil painting on my blog, and sent me a virtual watercolor!

It's based on a picture that is in my FB profile picture set, and also in my Faves picture set. It's from New Year's Eve 2009/New Year's 2010 - we had a party and I wore my $15 tiara that I hadn't worn since my wedding because... well... I could. Oh wait, sometimes I wear it when I'm playing Rock Band. But only when there are girls I want to kiss involved. Oh wait, that's not the point here...

He calls it "Mona Lisa Galiana" Awwwww. Thanks Prof!!

Accepting My Inner Whore

I think "Dirty Reader" is going to be the one to help me accept and love my Inner Whore. (background: why I'm referring to part of myself in third person here, and what I've already written about sluts and whores here)

Before we begin, let me perfectly clear: I am clearly pro-sex. I am clearly pro-sex-workers. I have long been fascinated by phone sex operators, strippers, and prostitutes. I think sex work can be an empowering, fulfilling career choice. 

And I think paying for sexual activities can be a healthy choice. It can be a perfectly valid hobby, not a bad use of entertainment funds. But even as a means of sexual gratification, I can see lots of scenarios where employing a readily available professional can be expedient, fulfilling, and well worth the cost. 

So why do I have a problem with accepting and loving my own Inner Whore?

I think I tend to reject my Inner Whore for two big reasons: because I want to value people for who they are more than for their material worth, and because I don't want to be dependent on men for money.

I can work through the first issue more easily. I will never stop valuing people for their sense of humor, ability to healthily express emotion, ability to verbally express interesting ideas, or the thousand other reasons I value people. I may professionally prioritize my follow-up efforts towards the well-funded, but that's just good business, not a reflection of a personal valuation. I have enough consulting experience to help me sort through this one. 

The second issue is deeper, and trickier. I got the message clearly growing up: never depend on a man for money, because who knows how long a marriage might last, and fortunes come and go anyway (both Dad and Stepdad had salary fluctuations from "can't afford a Coke at the zoo" to "what the hell, let's put in a hot tub"). And there's no family money to fall back on.

So I figured out how to pay for everything. And I felt good about my career. It was part of my identity, my ability to provide for myself, and it feels the same as how men talk about it. Money has never been a factor with who I've chosen to date, and I'm a secretly a little proud of that. (not such a secret now that you're publishing it...)(oh, hush, you)

Intellectually, I understand the difference between depending on one man to meet your financial needs, and depending on men in general to purchase the goods and services I am offering. And I understand rationally that everyone is ultimately dependent for their income: if you work for someone else, they had to hire you, and they pay you; if you work for yourself, you are dependent on customers, or the companies you are investing in. But those cognitive recognitions don't change my gut-level fear of being financially "dependent", whatever that means.

Somehow, I stumbled into this conversation with Dirty Reader. And he started poking around: What if someone offered you as much as you made in a month of phone sex in exchange for a long weekend live? How would that make you feel? What factors would go into making that decision?

I bucked against the idea at first, even just thinking about it. Now, I've met lovers online and I have faith in my safety filters. But wow. Meeting a phone client in person is seriously complicating a relationship that I'm partially relying upon for my livelihood. And would I be more reluctant to uphold my boundaries if I were getting paid? And not to mention: it's illegal! And not to mention: NO. Did I mention: NO? Wave after wave of warning bells went off, which I had to dismiss, one by one, just to sink into the fantasy space of it with him. It took a few tries.

But the math. The math is... attractive.

And when I got to that thought, I felt, for a moment, like a whore. I felt dirty. Unsettled. And... and... what the fuck is that feeling? Valued? Precious? Treasured? Really? Treasured? Where the hell is that coming from?

Right about then, the intuitive bastard said, "I think I'd pay you in cash, by leaving piles of money around the hotel room in small bills, so you'd have to pick it up, handle it, lie on it, crawl over it to get to me. Make you face it head-on, that you were taking money to be with me. I'd stuff fives into your bra and panties as I was undressing you." The severity and absurdity of the mental picture smacked me upside the head, and I found myself laughing and blushing and stammering. And verbally beating against his chest in protest, calling him every mean name I could think of, the dirty filthy fucking pig asshole sonofabitch jerkwad.

But sometimes picturing an extreme helps drive home a point, and the memory of it lingered, and somehow it's helping me to accept that my company as a sexual partner has monetary value to some people (obviously  discriminating patrons with exquisite taste). And it doesn't make me dependent or needy or weak to provide that exchange.

So now, I can feel my Inner Whore gaining strength, courage, and a voice - slowly, but steadily. I'm doing my best to encourage her coming-out, and trust that she won't grow too strong or take over or endanger me.

But I'll admit, I'm a tiny bit nervous about her.

Angela StLawrence Awesomeness

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Call Envy Awesomeness

I just got an email that had "Happy Birthday" as the subject line, so I figured it would be a nice note from a blog reader who didn't puke after reading my obnoxious birthday season post, or a caller who'd seen my "Mature" listing obnoxiously announcing that I'm turning 40 in September.

Ohhhhh no. I have to admit, it's better than that.

It was from Call Envy, a top-rated Flirt on NiteFlirt, with consistently great feedback. And she's a peach on the speaker forums, always coming up with great ideas and helping other people. It's clear she loves her job.

Thank you, Call Envy!

She made me a birthday girl picture!! It's like my own custom card! How adorable is that? And the tone of purple even compliments the shirt I'm wearing in the picture.

I think in some ways, it's even better than a card from a caller, because Call Envy doesn't have any reason to want me to be happy other than just being a nice person. And, in theory, she has good reason to want me to be unhappy so I'll mess up calls and send people her way! But no, out of the goodness of her heart (and, I suspect, a touch of holiday boredom), she just did something lovely and cheerful for someone she barely knows.

Awwwww. My faith in humanity is momentarily justified and renewed. Thanks, Envy, what a fantastic Birthday Season gift!!

Welcome To My Birthday Season!

I turn 40 this month! I'm so excited!

Chunktastic
turquoise & coral

I've never minded getting older. When I was in college, working hard both in acting class and therapy, I did a visualization exercise of "the person I want to be". And the image that stuck with me is a 50-year-old woman, outdoors, enjoying the land and the sun and the day, at peace with herself. And she was wearing unnecessarily chunky jewelry, probably turquoise. I have always found self-possessed 50-year-old women fascinating company.

So for 20 years now, I have thought that my 50th year will be the best of my life. It's probably setting me up for a huge nervous breakdown the day I turn 51, but oh well, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

In the meantime, I'm another year closer - only ten years away now! It's time to start preparing in earnest, because the day I turn 50, I plan to wear unnecessarily chunky jewelry every day for the rest of my life. There is no good reason for this plan, and yet, I've been certain that I would do exactly that for years now. Maybe it just feels too self-aggrandizing to be full-on eccentric before 50, but after 50, it seems perfectly appropriate.

Dangly is an acceptable
substitute for chunky 

Growing up as a divorced kid, all holidays were seasons - celebrated at least twice (once with Mom, once with Dad, and sometimes again with grandparents or cousins). So my birthDAY isn't really as important to me as my birthday SEASON, which is very clearly: all of September. Obviously, September is mine. Which makes my birthstone sapphire. How can sapphires be chunky, you ask? Like this awesome dangly set right here, of course.

An important disclaimer: expensive jewelry freaks me out - I lose and break stuff too easily to spend a lot of money on wearable decorative art. I'm not freaked out by jewelry under $40, though. That seems about right for an indulgence.

Now you're asking yourself, "Galiana, how can I help you celebrate the kickoff to your birthday season?" ... aren't you? No? Well, I'm not surprised. After all, I haven't known any of you very long at all. And the whole gifts part of the phone sex culture still confuses me a little. But I'll tell you anyway, just in case you're so inclined.

You can:

• Leave me feedback. If you've made calls or bought pics and haven't left feedback, go do it! I read them for fun. It's truly a gift I will love.  
• Leave a comment here on my blog. It's irrationally gratifying to me. 
• Send me a happy birthday email and tell me nice things about myself (Hmmm, a theme has emerged: I love nice written words about me...)
• If you feel compelled to send something physical (which would be surprising and a little baffling, but I admit, it would also be fun), email me at galiana at ymail dot com (not yahoo.com, ymail.com) with three choices and let me pick! It'll be like shopping together, which is another family tradition - shopping together means usable gifts plus pleasant company! Then send me an Amazon gift card for that amount, I'll buy the thing with the card, and I'll send you pictures of me opening/wearing/using it. (I don't do an Amazon wish list because of this)
• CALL ME! This is honestly what I want most  :) 

I expect this temporary and caveat-laden foray into the "spoiled princess mistress" type of phone sex worker to fail miserably, but it amuses me, and I don't think anyone will be hurt. Therefore, given my value structure (1. Do No Harm 2. Have Fun), I must. 

Wishes Coming True

My $15 sale dress

A phone partner sent me an Amazon gift card off my Wish List. I went practical (medicines for the dogs), but also decided to treat myself by searching dresses under $20. I found a magnificent treasure via Chadwick's.

When I started researching this job, I was astonished to find that callers sometimes liked to send gifts to the people they're talked with. I mean... I'm getting paid already. That seems perfectly fair to me!

But I was a waitress in college - I understand the concept of tipping for exceptional service, and I'm certainly not going to turn down the chance to pick up something fun!

Thanks, babe!

Now, I'm not a big shopper, not a high-maintenance spa addict... heck most days, I don't bother with makeup! But I love it when I don't have to leave my house, I can find something that I *think* will look good, and then it turns out to fit like a dream!

Plus, let's be honest here... it makes my boobs kinda look awesome, doesn't it?