Just in case you were all wondering, I feel like garbage. My head is killing me. I am plagued by migrains. I can’t play with myself. I can’t watch dirty movies. and I can’t yell at anyone to make me feel better about it. in fact, looking at my computer screen is making my eyes hurt.
There is a nasty bug going around my circle of friends. Chelci Fox cannot get sick!!
Think healthy thoughts for me.

While on the topic of the gym. … There is this perception of the women’s locker room that most men have. What one friend described to me is that he imagines women running around—laughing and touching, towels falling, more giggling, and steam everywhere. There is a perceived eroticism about it. I assumed it was just the perceived eroticism of a bunch of women being in one room.
I went to the gym with new eyes today. … The women’s locker room is exactly like what my friend depicted as his girl’s locker room fantasy. I wish I could have brought a video camera in. The steam in the air makes the room look soft and seductive. All these wet or mostly wet women joking with each other after a good match, or workout, or whatever. It is so hot! I could barely contain myself. To be honest, I had to excuse myself into a bathroom stall to masturbate. I had never even thought about the erotic possibilities of the changing area in my workout facility. Now it will always be on my mind.
Hopefully on yours, too!

As you all probably know, I am an exercise fanatic. True, I enjoy getting in shape. However, I love having any excuse I can get to have sweaty, heart-pounding fun. Not to sound way silly, but I think the governator at one point in his career said lifting weights is like “the cumming.” But it really is!!! You push up and up and up and you feel the tension build and build and build. You begin shaking. You don’t think you can handle another second and then you begin the decent and it is sweet, sweet release. You feel light headed, your hot skin covered in cool sweat, muscles contracting and expanding. Oh man! It is amazing. The thing that makes it better than sex is with lifting I can do it like ten times in a minute. Whereas sex, I can only do that once in a minute and it actually takes a bit longer than a minute. Ha.
Look at me. I am such a nerd. I can’t believe I am actually comparing sex to working out. Not only that, but working out is winning! Clearly I need to get laid. Ha.

I was sitting around and pondering, like I occassionally do. And it occurred to me that I am one lucky gal. Lucky in that I enjoy most of what occupies my time. That is engaging in sex and talkin about it with you.
so, girls use their diaries to record secrets they don’t dare utter to the rest of the world. Secrets about desire. Secrets about pent up passion. Secrets about release. So, it’s occurred to me that I haven’t really used this diary as a truth keeper as much as a diary is intended. What I am wondering, is if there is anything you want to know about me? You may think Chelci is an open book. But I do have a LOT of deep dark secrets I would not dream of sharing with anyone but you.
think of me and keep me posted.
xo, chelci

So, I am pretty sure I am officially out of my funk. Thank gaud, right? I got connected with some people participating in a self-organized, urban pub crawl. Wondering what a pub crawl is? I was when I happened upon them. What they decided to do was go to an area they knew had a lot of bars. Walk to the end of that street, cross over and walk back up. All the while, stopping into every single bar and ordering at least one beer. If the place is lame, you suck down your beer as quick as possible and move to the next one. If it’s a nice place, you may consider having more than one belt before going to the next watering hole. I thought this sounded like a lot of fun–getting sloppy with a bunch of complete strangers. The only hitch was that we went to a lot of way crappy bars. I think I took down 6 beers in no more than thirty minutes. My limit is usually two beers per hour. Needless to say, I was tossed. Not in an unfun, unmanageable way though. But instead, I was drunk in a rowdy and fun sort.
I made friends with nearly every bartender and got free drinks. I actually got a bartender to give me a free pitcher for going in the back room and letting him watch me masturbate. Talk about a win-win situation for me!
By the end of the night I was literally crawling from pub to pub. So, pub crawl is a good name for the event.
At the end of the evening I crawl into a cab, knocked on my neighbor’s door, and crawled into his bed. After all that drinking, I needed to do something to work it off–or someone. We didn’t do anything especially nasty. Just a couple times with me on top and a handful of times of plain, old missionary style. Sometimes that is just the way to go, especially when you are too drunk to hold up your own head.
Anyway, I need an aspirin, water, and desperately need to get some sleep. Come over if you want to rub my shoulders.

God! I have been so lazy and tired lately. I don’t know what’s gotten into me—or out of me.
I wake up around 10am and sit around in my skivvies until noon. I eat half a grapefruit and all I want to do is watch daytime television.
I haven’t been fingering myself. I have not seen my rabbit in days. And what’s worse, I haven’t even felt like looking at porno. I always want to look at porno!!
It seems like I’ve lost my zeal, my zest. I’m such a self-sufficient girl (if you know what I mean). Maybe that’s my problem. I am so used to doing for and just plain doing myself. I must be tired of it.
So that leaves me to beg the question, who’s going to come over and help me “take care of things” around the house? Don’t be shy!

Most of you have probably never played this game, but it is a board game that my generation’s young girls played. There are dares and truth-revealing questions. If you refuse to perform an act or answer a question, you have to wear a zit sticker. At the time, that seemed like the most devastating thing in the world. My friends and I realized that this is not quite as dire as grown ups. Also, we found the game itself to be a bit of a snore.
We decided to call over boys and make the night co-ed. As well, we rounded up some hooch. The boys served to help with the dares and the hooch replaced the silly zit stickers.
When the evening first started we were doing the standard find out who’s fucking whom. Who would LIKE to be fucking whom? There was walking outside naked and minor kissing and petting. I will tell you, the dares got far more inventive and questions more intrusive with boys and booze involved. Masha had to give Dave a lap dance. Lizelle had to do a shot of tequila, but licking salt off Dan’s dick. I had to act out and explicit doggy style sex scene (note to self: not as fun without a partner). We found out multiple women in the room LOVE anal sex AND the oddest places some have had sex. Oh another thing I had to do was put on a blindfold and see if I could guess who was sitting in front of me by putting his dick in my mouth. Completely juvenile, I know. I guessed Erik and was right. I kind of have the oral equivalent of a photographic memory. Ha ha!
We got so drunk. It was wild and a lot of fun. I am looking forward to having another night like that if anyone is interested.

I am not sure if you noticed, but I masturbate A LOT. Sometimes I think I do it too much. Can there be too much? If so, what is that limit? Sometimes I wonder if I should go on a masturbation hiatus.
These are questions I ask myself daily. Sometimes I think I have reached the too much mark when I get a cramp in my hand in the middle of the day and I have yet to reach my getting off quota for that day. Sometimes I switch hands. It’s like being touched by a stranger, which is sometimes exciting, but usually it’s just not the same.
It’s always a bummer to have to choose between ergonomic health and libido health. That’s why I am thinking that it’s time to take a break.
Am I being rational or irrational? Is this an idea that makes sense? Or, is it totally ridiculous.
I’m going to ponder this over the next few weeks. So, if I do decide to go with this I will have to have people come over to do the work for me. I’m still human and I still need a certain number of orgasms. Either that or I will just need to go out and buy new toys.
I wonder if I can write that off as a business expense?

What an unusual day. I did absolutely nothing. I needed to clean. I had laundry to do. You know, boring stuff.
I decided none of that stuff interested me. I stayed in bed until 10am. I love giving myself days off from the world. When I finally go out of bed I, made oolong tea and sat on the couch to watch soap operas. I find the drama intriguing and the young, wealthy people so stimulating. Soap operas are kind of like day-time soft core porn. Young people with money bullying each other, sleeping with everyone, and performing cut throat business transactions. Oh it’s all too fabulous. It’s the perfect back drop to masturbating like crazy. I make a game out of it. While watching young and the restless, I use my vibrator every time Gloria double crosses someone. I use my hand whenever Drusilla does something crazy that jeopardizes her marriage. When Victor yells, I use one of my assorted Dildos. Then when there is suspected in fidelity, I go for the all hand no penetration job.
I have a similar drill for the other soaps during the day.
Oh day time television.
I may only have one life to live, but as long as I’m the bold and the beautiful, I will pleasure myself for all the days of our lives, other wise I’ll be one of the young and the restless and have to go to the general hospital. … I could go one like that forever if allowed to.

Do any of you watch House?
I love that show. Sometimes I fantasize that I am on that show. A patient with random, seemigly unrelated symptoms. However, House has a hunch–Aphasia? Lichen Simplex Chronicus? No–he’s wrong. He gets frustrated. Whatever is worng with me is serious and he is running out of time. My life is slipping through is fingers and he can’t figure out what is the matter. What does he do. He stops and you see realization glaze over his eyes. He walks over to the bed. In a haste, he cuts off my hospital gown with such determination as in a life or death situation. Then with the same haste and look of determination, he tears off his shirt and I frantically remove his pants? All the while his stethiscope is pressed against my chest. As he penetrates me with his larger than life cock, I can hear my own heart rate accelerate. My heart pounds faster and harder as he does.I’m sweaty. I feel like I’m close to death. Everything is turning dark. Then, I cum! I feel my heart rate slow to normal. My vision returns. My fever, if any goes down. I can walk again. I have a new vest for life. The doctor’s from his team come in and ask how e cured me. And his response is, I had a feeling and went with it. Then, everyone watches in awe as he exits the room. The camera flashes back to me and I have stars in my eyes. Credits roll. the end.
It ma sound crazy, but after every episode I have a different ending. And my that, I mean he attacks the problem from a different end. ::wink:wink::