I was born in the wagon of a traveling show, my mama used to dance for the money they’d throw, Papa would do whatever he could …
Wait. That’s not me, that’s Cher. Apparently people have been getting the two of us confused for so long that now even I’m starting to do it. I guess I’m just going to have to snap out of it! (See what I did there? Yeah, I’m clever like that. And if you don’t see it I suggest you watch Moonstruck. Great movie, helps you get jokes.)
I write as The Baroness Buttercup for a number of reasons: I hate to waste a good pseudonym (I was Urethra Franklin on my last blog. Loved that name, hated giving it up), *sigh* hiding from my fucking stalker (see my last blog link), it feels a little bit like role-play and who doesn’t like role-play?, slipping into a different skin helps get my imagination and creative juices flowing, what I write is more important to me than having people knowing who I am and (most importantly) avoiding at all costs my parents somehow stumbling onto my blog.
I know, I know … what, you may ask, are the chances two people in their seventies who, no matter how many times I tell them I just need the whatever.com or .org or .net part of a URL to help them find something on a website still insist on starting with “http…”, will accidentally land here? Well, I didn’t think the odds of them running across my extensive collection of porn or arsenal of sex toys a freakishly high number of times were very good either, but I’ve had to hear things like, “Your father wants to know what to do with the steamer trunk full of pornography,” and “For God sake! How many dildos does one person need?” far too often to be willing to take the risk.
So that’s a bit about me. If there’s anything else you want to know, like where Buttercup lives is or what my father did with the steamer trunk full of pornography or just how many dildos one person needs, leave comment and I’ll get back to you.
Thanks for stopping by and I hope you’ll be back.