And now, lets dip into our mailbag shall we? Viewer Bill (not his real name) writes in.

Bill asks "Why don't you show us what you look like? How do we know you're as cute as you say you are and not some fat cow or some horny guy somewhere? You should post a picture of you clean and then one pied"

Well Bill, that's a great question! Lets address it piece by piece.

It doesn't matter to me whether you think I'm a fat cow (and lets give some love to fat cows out there! Hi fat cows! We love you!). The image you hold in your head is the image you hold in your head. It's up to you. I could not care less. Also, what's so bad about being a fat cow? Or a lean ferret? I have been called a sexy minx before, but that's a tale for another time. You know who you are!

Next: No, I shouldn't post a picture, at all. Here's a story, Bill, about a young and naive Anna.

Once upon a time, I joined an online fetish social website that rhymes with metknife. I met some interesting people online, but no one into pie in the face play (my thang!). An online friend invited me to a local "splunch" [edit: might be "munch". Big noob then, big noob now] which was not nearly as messy as it sounds. It was just a get-together of kinksters.

So I mill around, meet people, and then to my sudden and total shock see an executive from the company I worked for. I tried to avoid him seeing me, but no luck. He saw me. I bolted home.

Fast forward a month and a half later. I'm in the HR office filing a complaint because Mr. Married Executive kept after me to be his cute little sex slave. His sub, his feral, his whatever. He Would. Not. Stop. Askling. Me. Even after I politely kept asking him to stop. But no! He assumed that my presence at the splunch was because I was a cute tiny little submissive who was just dying for a D/s relationship and he decided he just had to have me as his sub, and he as my Master. I never ever mentioned what my kink really was, I just wanted to die and crawl under my desk and just get my work done.

HR suggested "...well, maybe you should reconsider your life choices and not attend events like that where might run into co-workers." Seriously?

And they fired my ass. A week later I was called into HR and terminated on the spot. BOOM.

That was my first job out of university. I got a new one a few months later.

So you see, Bill, this isn't a sob story; it's a lesson well-learned! From that day forward, Bill, I remain anonymous/pseudonymous. In fact, the only way I will partake in these kinky social intertubes thingies is anonymously. It's protection, Bill, from people who can't control themselves. Sad, but necessary.

And ultimately, it's up to me, M'kay? I decide what's best for Baby!

That's it for today's mailbag!! Send me a question here! Live, from Pieland, that's all for now!

(Update: I just realized that the next mailbag or blog post will be upbeat and fun! Stay tuned, folks!)