Categories: columnsMissBonnified

Sugar And Spice All Tied Up And Laced Down

Something horrible happened to me this past week. I was totally kidnapped by a most diabolical nemesis. This being not only turned me into a zombified version of myself, but caused me to neglect my duties to YouBentMyWookie by turning me into the proverbial Absentminded Professor.

This fiend sucks up my life blood and puts demands upon my poor delicate body that would cause any other mortal to cry “Uncle!!” But not me, because I’m the Supreme Commander and the Ultimate Destroyer! This monstrosity and I have a strange relationship, though. It’s kind of a love-hate type of deal where I would not be able to survive without it, and it needs my expertise if it wants to continue functioning smoothly.

In bondage to this fearsome entity, I am forced to inflict unimaginable pain upon other humans. I make them bleed in the name of all that’s holy. I make them cry. I make them wish they could somehow discover the secret of time travel so that they could go backwards and remedy whatever error they committed that landed them in a place where they get to receive my undivided attention. But you know what’s funny? They always thank me and come back to visit. How’s that for bizarre? In return, I carve from it a means to maintain my lifestyle of relative ease and comfort.

The name of this most horrific and feared creature?

Work.

I swear I’m not a dominatrix although I think the innate skills I possess and honed with ruthless singlemindedness in my specialty at the hospital could afford me a very lucrative gig moonlighting as one should I choose. It also doesn’t help when other such enslaved individuals tell me that they can see me as Mistress Bonnie.

My friends don’t exactly come to my rescue defending my non-dominatrix honor when they gleefully jump in and say that I’m like Lady Heather from CSI crossed with some kind of weird combination of both O-Ren Ishii and Gogo Yubari from “Kill Bill 1.”

That’s awesome. Really, people. That’s just fan-freaking-tastic. I was never quite sure if I should be honored or slightly taken aback that i remind those closest to me of those two particular characters. Hm. Actually, I’d much rather be some super smart, bad ass Ninja-Fu ladies who don’t take crap from any one versus say…being compared to Fook Yu and/or Fook Mi, the pleasure principle twins. Omg. Oh hell no. Okay, so maybe my friends do know me after all.

What I find odd is that no one else seems to think my coworkers would make an excellent dominatrix even though their scrubs are much more fashionable than my plain hospital issued set. I keep the amount of makeup I wear at work to a bare minimum (eyeliner and chap stick. When I say “minimum eyeliner”, I don’t mean a la Amy Winehouse. Oh no….oh God, no) and I don’t bother styling my hair either so it’s safe to say I’m rather baffled as to why it’s pretty much agreed and unanimous that I’m the only one fit to bear the title of Mistress or Lady. Gee, that’s great.

I don’t think I do myself any favors when I’m out with my friends because my favorite colors are black and red. I’m partial to buckles, corsets, locks and keys, choker style necklaces or layers like Alexis Bledel’s character Becky in “Sin City” (Omg, I friggin LOVE THAT MOVIE!!!), leather motorcycle jackets, anything fallen angel, skulls, all things blinged and I refuse to wear any shoe with a heel that’s less than 4 inches when I’m out stalking the night.

I also prefer stiletto heels so spiky they can double as a weapon. You know, like the kind of shoe Jennifer Jason Lee killed Bridget Fonda’s fiance with in “Single White Female.” I should probably say that I do not view my shoes as a means to harm others physically (unless you’re the clumsy idiot who tripped over my shoes. If that’s the case, then it’s not my fault you are Epic Fail in the Stability Department), nor do I ever have any intention of turning them into one because that wouldn’t be nice.

Yeah….soooo…. * sigh *

To balance out the side that comes out at night, I have to say my shoes when I’m a day skipper are different. I will settle for kitten heels because I like the sound of them. Kitten heels. So cute. I also really like clean lines, shirt dresses and classic pieces like cashmere sweaters and uber hawt jeans.

You know what? Now that I think about it, I’m no longer as “Omg” when people tell me I remind them of Lady Heather who happens to be their favorite CSI character e-v-a-r. I think it’s a compliment because she’s awesome. What’s not to like about the woman? She’s self made, she’s got integrity, she loves her child, she’s got spunk, she’s a professional and she’s got ambition. You know what? I’m GLAD my friends think I’m like her. She rocks my thigh high suede and leather platform stiletto boots. I admire strong women who know how to stay in control but also know when to yield. Nice. Talk about sugar and spice and everything nice. Yummy. Gotta love it.

I was rescued from La La Land when I received a gentle cattle prod jolting me out of my work induced zombie state asking me if YouBentMyWookie can expect a piece from me. That’s when I realized just how much I enjoy writing for this site. So can you believe my relationship with YouBentMyWookie is in its second month? What can I say? Time flies when you’re having fun. I’m having a ball putting all the weirdness that is Bonnie on this site and knowing that you guys actually read it. I think that’s what I find most amazing.

Aaaww…warm and fuzzy feelings for everyone.

MissBonnified

You can get a crash course on Intro To Bonnie N. Clyde 101 if you read the first column I wrote for YouBentMyWookie. :: This here little box will be Intermediate Bonnie N. Clyde :: I am so smart. S-M-R-T. I am so cute. K-U-T-E. I can spell really gud. Some know me as Bonnie but you may refer to me as Supreme Commander. I will also answer to Ultimate Destroyer since my quiz result of “Which Sailor Moon Character Are you” said I’m Sailor Saturn who can eradicate entire universes simply by touching the tip of her weapon to the ground…and then everything goes Ka.Boom. Too bad she loses her life as a result of bringing the End Game of all end games but hey, I’m gonna conveniently overlook that minor detail. I don’t see how I can define myself in all these little boxes. I can only be experienced. Now wouldn’t that make an excellent slogan for some kind of liquor or anything that’s exotic? Oh yeah. Know that you saw it here first. * wink *

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