My name is Trixie (aka TastyTrixie). The Wandering WebWhore is my personal blog. I'm a 30-something indie pornographer whose journal covers a variety of topics: mundane daily life, work-related reflection, sex stuff, current events, and more.
I went on a google adventure and discovered a guy who loves enormous clits and uses the word "hermaphrodite" to describe women endowed with them. That's his definition of hermaphrodite: women with prominent clits. It was all worth being exposed to his weird-ass opinion, though, because I got to see a photo of Linda Might, "The Queen of Clits", who I'd never heard of before.
Jesus, I'd love to have myself a three-inch clitoris.
Anyway, I can't stop thinking about all of this hermaphrodite bullshit and wishing I could grasp EXACTLY what is so fucked up about these rumours (and people's responses to them) and articulate that fucked-upedness accurately.
I can't stop thinking about being in our local candle store and hearing three people engaged in a discussion about Ann Coulter in which one person "informed" the other two that Coulter was "born a man". Yeah, she's a tranny! The two women gasped, one declared she'd always SUSPECTED as much, the other asked if he was SURE . . . and he WAS. He was SO FUCKING SURE. He insisted it was true. He backed it up with things he'd heard on Air America.
I wanted to interrupt and tell them they were wrong, but went home to check JUST IN CASE. Because there also seems to be something wrong with just ASSUMING those tales are false. Is it a growing acceptance/awareness (or heightened fear/paranoia/continued ignorance) of transgender that fuels these bullshit stories? Is it just a contemporary expression of misogyny / new way to express or justify hatred and disgust of genetic women people find contemptible or disturbingly sexy (ex. Jamie Lee Curtis)? Maybe, but there's a weird ambiguity about the way a lot of people talk about these urban legends, like teenagers who WANT to believe in ghosts. One part wishful thinking, one part pure bullshit, and another part pure fear.
Standing in the store I mostly just listened even though they said some stupid shit that made me want to say, "HEY -- my girlfriend is transsexual; maybe you should watch what kind of moronic crap you let stream out of your mouth in front of strangers." Instead I called the store after I got home and verified that the Ann Coulter as Tranny story IS INDEED a myth, told them WRONG. But that seemed to miss the point, too. Even if she HAD been born with a dick, that doesn't explain her away or make sense of her. That knowledge, if it were true and we could attain it, wouldn't somehow put her in her place the way people seem to want it to.
Oh well. I'm sure more brilliant minds than mine have got this sorted out and published somewhere with a lot of fancy words and complicated double-talk that will never do anything to help make the average American get it. Someday maybe it will all get straightened out, but in the meantime women-who-confuse-us are the new Richard Geres and Rod Stewarts, with bellies full of cow semen and hamsters up the ass. The tabloids have proof that Obama's birth certificate is a fake, and we think if only someone would publish that photo of an infant Ann Coulter sporting a pre-op malignant penis, we could win this argument!.
I used to have no beef with Tyra. Before we actually WATCHED her shows. I still think some people get crazy-mean criticizing her, but if they do, this is a perfect example of why. Her double standards and bullshit exploitation of young women is a gross freak show. You can't help wanting to knock her off her high horse. Some of the things I have seen and read about her doing to young women are despicable, mostly because she sees no problem with having malnourished girls get hypothermic modeling in pools of cold water or in violating codes by forcing inexperienced model-wannabes to live more-to-a-room with fewer beds than are allowed by hotel regulations or with promising contracts and money and work that never come through or just plain exploiting these young women's bodies, inexperience, stupidity, etc. BUT she somehow thinks porn is SO BAD while she's some kind of a fucking mother-hen angel rescuer.
Tyra's shows ARE porn. That article illustrates how manipulative, degrading, deceptive, brainwashing, irrational, insulting, and totally FUCKED UP mainstream media and moral standards are and how SHADY the game is of pointing the finger at the skin trade when the skin is the whole reason people are watching your charade. The hypocrisy is grotesque. They lie to guests, twist their words, misrepresent them, costume them in a misleading manner to try to prove their bullshit points and "seduce" audiences with their bullshit and subject people like Sasha who are smarter than Tyra to what amounts to an emotional stoning. That whole scene reminds me of the time a bible-based cult ganged up on me to try to convince me I was possessed by demons, going to hell, my mind was playing crafty tricks on me, etc. Seriously.
But I'm not here to JUDGE you, Tyra. I'm just here to ask you to CONSIDER fucking off and dying. YOU are a pimp, Tyra. YOU.
PS - starving yourself and wearing high heeled shoes that don't fit and falling off runways and crap are probably more unhealthy and more unnatural than buttfucking.
PPS - seduced by money? Bwahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!
PPPS - after watching/reading that I can say I'm a now a Sasha Grey fan (VOD or DVD - yes, I'm pimping, too).
From a video we shot awhile back but just posted recently:
I don't do enough glasses porn so we shot that in part to try to remedy that. It's a shame I don't shoot more stuff while I'm wearing my spectacles since I have a really "sexy" strong prescription, if you're into that sort of thing:
right eye = -6.75 -1.00 x 135 left eye = -4.00 -2.75 x 156
The third number is for my astigmatism.
I also did a creepy voice-over/roleplay with myself for that video AND Delia threw her back out shooting that POV (point of view), so I want to make sure it's fully "appreciated" by nerd-lovers. Members can see it here. Non-members can join our sites to see it OR buy it on our clips4sale store (look for "Interview with a Nerd").
Speaking of nerds, we finally saw Star Trek last night. Aside from it being an amazing, must-see-on-the-big-screen event, it totally had a Father's day theme AND there were only five other people in the theatre with us, and three of those people were mega-Trekkers. The dude looked exactly like "Sex", the crazy guy whose mom brings him to try out for So You Think You Can Dance every season. Only this guy made really awesome geeked-out joy noises in response to the movie and made the experience even more pleasurable and authentic than it would have otherwise been. I mean, we totally geeked out but this nerd-monkey NOISE that he made just epitomized what Star Trek fans are all about. And even with that few people in the seats, I *still* managed to get some fucker putting his feet up on our row of seats and shaking the shit out of me so, as usual, I had to have words with someone. PEOPLE. I love and loathe the shit out of them.
I think the last movie was saw in the theatre before this was Twilight so we're parched for big screen entertainment. I'd love to see Up and Terminator Salvation before it's too late.
After having the worst sales day on Sunday I've ever seen, I changed our Directv package to the cheapest one (that's still not "cheap", but anyway). I also scaled back our Netflix from five discs out to three and got excited about a return to listening to This American Life and music more often. And maybe having the attention span to watch entire movies again -- something we've all but lost in the past couple of years of television immersion.
Some of the cable shows we love best are The First 48, Cold Case Files, Mad Men (swoon), Deadliest Catch, and Intervention -- apparently we aren't alone in being addicted to that show because I got a bunch of tweets in response to my announcement yesterday from people who couldn't stand to give up Intervention.
I first started watching Intervention alone and totally felt guilty and ashamed watching it, like only a sicko would watch an hour of a stranger's family's most private, horrifyingly personal, lowdown moments. I'd record them on our DVR and wait to watch them alone until once when my sister was over she saw it in the list of shows and was like, "oooh! Let's watch Intervention!!" The concept of all of us watching the show together embarrassed me, like it's something you should only watch in private (which of course isn't true).
It's not that I think the show is bad -- I think it's awesome, and since then Delia and I have watched it together many times -- it's just really intense and weird. I do think it's informative (I love that they focus on all kinds of addictions and sicknesses from gambling to OCD to Diabetes to eating disorders) and helps build empathy, but it still feels wrong to watch it for entertainment. But we do, I guess. One person tweeted to me that she thinks that show is depressing with a capital "D". And it's true, that's the embarrassing part -- why would we watch something totally depressing for FUN? I guess there are a million awkward answers to that question.
One of the first Interventions I watched was repeated last night and pissed me off in a giant way. The family seemed more concerned with Cristy's stripping than with her drug use, like the STRIPPING was THE sign she was way out of control (and what a great marketing hook, too!). Whenever I see that crap it disturbs the fuck out of me the way people alienate someone who already feels totally isolated and judged by being TOTALLY FUCKING STUPID about sex work. I'm not saying that the sick women on Intervention would choose sex work if they weren't in desperate situations, I'm just saying that their friends and families are usually so fucking retardedly focused on that part of it that they contribute to the problem and I've never seen that addressed in any healthy way on the show (though some of the families seem to have it in a more rational perspective).
It reminds me of a story I saw about a missing woman, maybe on America's Most Wanted, told mostly from the perspective of her "loving" parents who OVER and OVER said they knew she would NEVER have become a prostitute in Las Vegas of her own volition and that her evil boyfriend HAD to have MADE her do it and caused her to disappear. They said stupid shit over and over again about how they knew their darling daughter would never have chosen this life for herself and how badly they wanted her back so she could be her old innocent self again. Of course she was probably dead so it probably doesn't matter, but all I could think is that if this woman WAS alive and in a bad situation and saw her parents saying that shit, she'd probably rather whither up and accept her current lot than think she could ever live near them and their unaccepting ignorance again. People are so hyperfocused on how degrading they believe sex work always is that they can't fucking think straight, like these parents who seemed unable to recognize that their daughter willingly chose this boyfriend AND sex work in Vegas, and that the real sad and scary thing was that someone -- possibly the boyfriend -- probably killed her for it. Instead they went on tv, rejected her choices (that probably came from wanting to get away from their moronic idealized perception of her) and shat all over her.
This is why I need to stop watching TV. Because this crap HAUNTS me! And I haven't even said anything about the MOST DISTURBING episodes of Intervention and America's Most Wanted! Gah!
As a feminist and a sex positive person I probably should DESPISE Twilight, but I don't. I read the book (and only the first one so far) because it takes place near here and I saw the movie because the previews made it look way better than the book . . . I felt compelled by curiosity, local interest, a desire to know more about a pop culture phenom, and because I TOTALLY WANTED TO.
The book? Meh. It was entertaining, mildly annoying from a local's perspective, and mind-boggling since I wouldn't have STOOD for so many pages of overt chastity when I was a tween reader myself in the eighties. A sign of the conservative times, I guess; I am DAMN glad I grew up with Judy Blume's Ralph-named penises and totally taboo rape scenes in Flowers in the Attic.
The movie? LOVED IT. I mean, I seriously fucking LOVED it. The previews drew me in because it looked dark and funny (there wasn't a trace of self-aware humor in the book, so that was an improvement already) and I wanted to see the flying scenes. It was just an all-around great movie-theater movie -- pretty, entertaining, moody . . . familiar.
Here's the deal about Twilight: no matter how loathsome it may be from a political point of view, that movie (and the book for other people) delivers exactly what a lot of young women crave and feel romantically. It's extremely exciting and beautiful and "sexy" in a vague, inexplicit, totally hysterically emotional way. Beautiful boy looks at beautiful girl and they are CONNECTED, locked together . . . anticipating . . . SOMETHING totally INTENSE!!!!
You can criticize that all you want, but when you do, you're trashing the (natural) fantasies of lots and lots of young woman. When I watched that movie I really didn't care what the implications were, I cared that it DELIVERED visions of something deeply desired by girls. After you finally kiss? Something very exciting happens, kind of like exploding into a flying spell into the sky!! Yeah, it's fucking stupid, but that overwrought anticipation of something that gobbles you up entirely and transcends the mundane is part of most young women's hormonal pre-teen/teenage experience. What's next isn't sex, it's MAGIC!!
I had orgasms and the anticipation of sex on the brain a lot as a young woman and I *probably* wouldn't have liked that movie as much then as I do now (my generation's Twilight was Legend, which I thought was a enchanting for two minutes then a total fucking bore except for when Tim Curry as the devilish dark beasty was going to do whatever dirty things he was going to do to Mia Sara), but I still had to celebrate it for being pure fore-fore-foreplay and girly fantasy with pretty menacing shadows.
In general I'm becoming less and less tolerant of myself and other people making fun of what women want or theorizing that the politically incorrect, unempowering things women want are *entirely* constructed for us artificially. There is nothing fake about girls wanting to fly around on the back of a strong beautiful sparkly vampire boy's back or to be a vampire and run-really-really-fast/fly themselves (I haven't read the rest of the books so I don't know if she eventually gets there or not, but clearly there are OTHER female characters who do).
I don't know why it should make people cringe that girls want to immerse themselves in the fantasy of being in tragic love with such a creature or that the public version of this particular popular story is g-rated (except for the violence, of course -- this IS America, after all). Personally? I watch a lot of porn but there were scenes in this movie that were five billion times more agonizingly erotic than anything XXX rated ever could hope to be. It was a brilliant fucking tease, and there's nothing hotter than having no release. I don't give a fuck about the stammering heroine and her shortcomings; she's a blank slate and nobody else cares much about her either because it's a fucking FANTASY. Do girls really need a fucking role model in every single fantasy they have or are they entitled to be thrilled and entertained and suspend contact with reality just like everyone else? I also *almost* don't care about the scariness of fantasizing about a creepy stalker boyfriend who sneaks into your room at night and stares at you while you sleep; yes, it's totally gross and weird and dangerous. But a lot of us have had that same exact unrealistic fantasy and it made us feel good (in more ways than one). That? It's human nature. And I'm sick of women being shamed and cautioned into censoring their own fantasies because we're apparently too stupid to distinguish between fantasy and reality. IT'S A STORY ABOUT VAMPIRES. Can we tell reality and consequences to fuck off for a little while?
If anyone wants to post relevant links like feminist critiques of Twilight, etc. feel free. I honestly have clicked off of just about all of them without giving them the time they probably deserve simply because I'm not in the mood for dissecting it, but I totally understand if other people are (and that my "arguments" are ill-informed and based totally on suspicions and raw emotion). One of the good ones I clicked off of made interesting observations regarding the popularity of abstinence-only sex "education" and Twilight. I don't know why I'm just not in the mood to care a whole lot this time around (I was certainly pissed enough about The Girl with a Pearl Earring that I almost walked out of the theatre) unless it's as I said above; that girls deserve to have their desires spoken to and to enjoy their daydreamy fantasies regardless of how unrealistic and bizarre and dangerous they might be. So yeah -- *I'm* not very interested in getting into a discussion about it in comments, but I totally understand why others might be so more info and other people's perspectives and discussions are still welcome.
After the gloomy pictures and tone of this post I'm overdue posting something cheerful that reflects how I'm feeling A BILLION TIMES BETTER, so here are some happy pictures from a recent members-only gallery and an update on what's going on in my body and head.
It's hard for me to describe how profoundly different/healed I felt within a week of starting to treat my hormone problems. I can only compare it to what born again Christians feel like. Seriously. Only I feel like I just established a close personal relationship with NORMALCY rather than with Jesus. And now I am wondering how the fuck I was even getting out of bed at all, because I was really REALLY sick.
A lot of stuff that I was experiencing I couldn't even verbalize without sounding totally crazy and was effecting me on every level you can possibly think of: mentally, spiritually, physically, socially, sexually, etc. My muscles, joints, head, eyes, guts, boobs, feet, jaw, ears HURT and weren't working right. Pretty much everything was causing me pain and fatigue, from the sound of people's voices to the loud conversations being held in my head to the TORTURE of dropping something and having to go through the agonizing, soul-sucking motion of bending over to pick it up. I thought I was being a hypochondriac to worry that I had lupus or something horrifying going on. All I wanted to do was work and be happy and do the millions of things I want to do, so I tried to exercise more, to cut back on things that were especially tiring (which got to the point of being EVERYTHING except the bare minimum -- I haven't been seeing my family, friends, or doing anything except trying to survive). The slightest annoyances were sending me into paroxysms of mean-spirited anguish. If you think I was complaining a lot about headaches and stuff, you don't know the tenth of it. I actually didn't even want to recognize how incredibly bad it was.
But then last week I started to feel INCREDIBLY GOOD. Like I looked in the mirror and didn't see death warmed over staring back at me -- oh yeah, THAT'S what I look like without a sickly pallor and giant, deep, dark circles rimming my eyes! Like, getting out of bed in the morning IS EASY and something to celebrate instead of something that caused me physical pain. I'm not exaggerating, I had been feeling PAIN reverberating through every fiber of my being. I thought it was just me being not-a-morning-person, "sensitive", etc. but as it turns out? FUCK NO. The first three days of feeling awesome last week are my new standard for how I should feel 99% of the time and I'm not going to accept anything less ever again.
Here are the supplements I started taking:
*Evening Primrose Oil *iodine *birth control (chick hormones) *omega oils *potassium (in grapefruit juice, etc.) *awesome Vitamin B complex *digestive enzymes
and changes I made:
*maintaining a stable blood sugar level (not letting myself get hungry, eating way less simple carbs/sugars) *continuing to use tools & learn more for anger management, concentration, calm, etc. *exercising consistently *continuing to make 8-9 hours of sleep per night my goal
A lot of these are things I've done before that yielded positive results, but I never did them consistently or all at the same time or appreciated the importance of spending the money to stay stocked up on all of the vitamins or understood the big picture of how they were helping me. I still don't have a thorough grasp of that, but getting as totally fucked up as I was forced me to do a lot of research and over the years a lot of people and circumstances have handed me clues. Like not being able to get pregnant and slowly finding out a whole bunch of possible reasons why not. Like having people tell me over and over and over again to have my thyroid tested. Like having almost no stressors in my life and often doing everything right and trying my fucking hardest and still feeling WORSE instead of better. Like having some really great health care providers in my life and then having to deal with one who was really bad. Like THE INTERNET being an imperfect but still fucking fabulous resources. Like having a trans partner and thinking more about hormones, identity, and the nuances of gender. Like having people tell me I have too much testosterone. Like having my hair stylist tell me I had an unnatural amount of HAIR FALLING OUT OF MY HEAD (ahhh, so it WASN'T my imagination that was noticing my part widening in pictures and on the webcam I have staring down at the top of my head).
I really am sorry for how impatient I've been, how easily agitated I've been, and for how little time I've had for people and issues and projects I care about. Mostly I'm sad that Delia had to live with someone so unpredictable and "touchy". But I'm really happy for us now that we are both getting ourselves sorted out.
I think this year (or at least the next six months) are going to be a time of simply catching up on time I/we've lost personally and financially/professionally. I know I've made a lot of posts in the past couple of years about ways I was reorganizing and reprioritizing things, and while many of them were necessary, very few of them were productive or successful because of what I now realize was a significant health problem. I am going to be patient with myself and try to enjoy simply feel good. REALLY good.
I'm not saying my life has been nonstop misery because that's not true at all -- hormones are shifty fuckers so there've been lots of highs and lows and near-normalcy, but I've likely been suffering from this for most of my post-adolescent life to one degree or another judging from how rarely I ovulated on time or at all; most people would say "judging from how rarely my period was on time", but I now refuse to refer to on-time periods as the sensible indicator of health when it totally ignores that timely menstruation is reliant on timely ovulation. It's not that I think ovulation is some holy fucking grail or that every woman should strive for FERTILITY, I just think there's so much MISSING from (and deceptive about) our language for talking about how our bodies function and how to identify problems and heal them. And you know how women who understand their clits and their g-spots and the rest of their bodies and how they work and where those parts live CAN MAKE THEM OPERATE BETTER and experience more pleasure? I don't think the rest of our anatomy and functionality is any different. If I understand that high blood sugar and cortisol and stress and testosterone and estrogen suppression and ovulation and concentration and happiness are all linked up and I can visualize those things and better know how to achieve stability there, then I am going to be a happier, better-functioning person.
Personally I'm excited about the discoveries I'm making about myself and feel so fired up about so many things I'm back to my "normal" scatterbrained whirlwind of divided attention (and haven't been taking Ritalin since I started my little regimen above). I'm also really angry and thinking a lot about how most health care providers are totally incompetent and uncaring when it comes to endocrinology (unless it has to do with diabetes) and SUPER COMMON hormone problems. I believe to my core that misogyny is the root of the ignorance and lack of care; people believe and want women to age a certain way, to become dried-up shrews. They believe we'll complain about anything and are still mostly just hysterical, crazy bitches and that our problems are all psychological. Everyone thinks it's so "advanced" to treat depression and anxiety as real stand-alone illnesses now that we can throw fucked-up, addictive drugs at when so much depression and anxiety and other mental illness are probably caused by hormonal problems that don't always originate with (or aren't limited to) poor brain chemistry or treated best just by addressing them. I'm certainly not suggesting we all go Tom-Cruise-Vitamin-Crazy, I'm just saying that health care professionals aren't even bothering to test for or treat underlying hormone imbalances, and most people like it that way. It makes a lot of women sicker, not healthier. Just to give you an example, this doctor I went to was ready to put me on anti-depressants, didn't believe me when I told her I knew the birth control itself would help a lot, and refused to test my thyroid (the most common "thyroid" test done is for TSH -- thyroid stimulating hormone -- and it doesn't really test your thyroid gland, it tests your pituitary gland AND the results are months old by the time it reaches your blood). You have to wonder how this woman thinks that anti-depressants are going to cure me of hair loss, weight gain, constipation, lethargy, etc. when you know it will make most of those symptoms WORSE. To her I was just a crazy, miserable bitch demanding a "complicated" explanation for what seemed obvious to her: THAT I'M SIMPLY A CRAZY MISERABLE BITCH.
If we removed the stigma and value judgment from the statement "she's got hormone problems" we'd lose one of our most precious and reliable punch lines. So many women would feel so much better the world would be turned upside-fucking down. It probably wouldn't be very good for the sex industry, I imagine, if more middle-aged women felt like a million bucks. Or maybe it would . . . . My sister, a nurse, said she thinks endocrinology is too nuanced for traditional western medicine to deal with and that it's not a "sexy" field like surgery. I think it's the opposite. It's the sexiest field of all. It IS the source of what we think of as sex and gender and for us to really understand it and the role it plays in our lives and how it is the foundation for so much of our identities would pose such a threat to the status quo and to the people we rely upon to make the rest of us feel normal by comparison that it's just a giant taboo. In generations to come I think it's transgender and people who defy gender stereotypes and limitations who will force the medical community and other people to understand endocrinology a whole lot better and how hormones can be manipulated to help us lead our best, most authentic and healthiest lives.
Anyway, long post short, I was feeling pretty bad. And now I feel really great. And that makes me really happy. I'm fueling up now for good things to come.
Yeah, well I *loved* her. Because I could relate to her so much. Her seriousness and convictions and reaching for the right words (but getting them all wrong) and insisting upon precision with her responses to questions and bewilderment over the rules of the interview at the end. I loved her voice and she was the kind of smarT I recognize as my own.
I hate myself for watching that show, but almost feel like it's my duty to know how we're being taught about our own and other people's value. If you have bad teeth, if you're mentally ill, if you're overweight, if you're an aspie (see above), if you're overweight AND wear tight or revealing clothing, if you're borderline retarded, you're fair game for the Idol freak show. All of America joins together not just to laugh at you, but to FEEL GOOD about laughing at you without compunction. It's a family show! Everybody's watching! It's okay to laugh in someone's face, punctuate every gaffe with sound effects, play songs like "Weird Science" when you walk into your audition if you're a nerd (two scores I'd personally be pleased with -- that song is googlyicious GOODNESS and that one nerd with bad teeth could have played Patrick Bateman's long lost hillbilly cousin!). You can laugh right in someone's face and still be considered kind as long as you chuckle "good lookin' out!" and say, "awwww, you should never sing again but I can tell you're a real sweetie!" as they exit.
They pretend American Idol is a competition only one person wins at the end, but the real reason it's popular is because we ALL get to be winners at home each and every time they show us another fucking loser. The same people who've been targets of cruelty and ostracism for centuries -- sissy boys with lisps, fat girls whose pants split, ugly people who dare to smile wide, and village idiots whose ears stick out and eyes are too close-set -- willingly subject themselves to torment. Compared to them, the rest of us come out so far ahead! We are smarter, prettier, stronger and more likely to fit in than THOSE Americans. We wouldn't make their stupid mistakes!
We just watched an episode (Yokel Chords) of The Simpsons that made fun of this phenomenon with Homer demonstrating exactly the behavior I'm talking about, pointing at the inbred hicks on tv, calling them stupid and feeling so good about himself in the process. I totally understand the appeal; in the internet porn industry I'm surrounded by people I subconsciously think of as easy targets (mostly my male "colleagues"); I feel like it's my duty to be mean and ream them out, but maybe I actually waste time around them on webmaster boards because I'm a small person who wants to pretend she's an advanced and sophisticated thinker. How petty and embarrassing is that?
It's taking me a long time to put it into practice, but I really want to stop doing that. Awhile back we heard a comedian on the radio asking why it's not okay to make fun of retarded people but people who are just plain STUPID are totally fair game. It kind of blew my mind because I like to think I'm one of those defenders of political correctness and sensitivity, but I totally have that double standard that I should be empathetic towards people who are developmentally delayed or have other identifiable REASONS for not being great intellectual thinkers, but it's not only acceptable to mock and hate on stupid people -- it's like I sometimes feel it's my fucking DUTY to be mean, angry and impatient with stupid and/or ignorant people. Like they have no excuse for being so dumb or lacking information. Granted, most of the time when I feel that way it's because they're acting like judgmental know-it-alls themselves or because they're idiots writing to me with offensive demands, but it doesn't really accomplish anything or make me a better person to behave the same way. I feel especially gross about it considering that under other circumstances -- if I were in a different role doing a different kind of job (teaching, for example) -- I would never allow myself to act that way and would be horrified by other people doing it. There are a bunch of ways I defend my behavior and even as I write this think it's the RIGHT thing to do in certain circumstances. What I want is to understand what *I* get emotionally out of being an asshole to stupid people and decide whether or not it can accomplish anything positive next time I feel like calling someone a moron. It's gotten so reflexive that nary a day goes by that I'm not screaming at someone for being a dumb-ass. Dumb fuck, dumb ass, crazy bitch, stupid shit, crazy SON-of-a-bitch, cocksucking moron . . . apparently they're everywhere I look and it doesn't really make me feel good to label people that way everywhere I look, even if I only do it in my head or muttering under my breath at the grocery store, "MOVE, you stupid shit-for-brains, MOVE!!"
I wonder why I've gotten worse about this as I've gotten older. Is it because I'm more socially isolated and feel less connected to other people? Is it because I'm more and more aware of my own limitations and am just projecting my own feelings of inferiority? Is it because I have some hormonal stuff going on that's making me more of an asshole than I really am? Is it because I know that I'm actually one of those stupid hillbilly nerds they make fun of on television? Whatever it is, I'm going to try to be less of a shithead and recognize that the only person I am in competition with is myself.
We woke up early to watch the Inauguration yesterday; I turned the television on as fast as I could and pretty much started crying immediately. I'm a sucker in general for ritualized ceremonies, but a lot of things made it extremely emotional for me. There's all the obvious stuff of watching a momentous, proud, hopeful, inspiring piece of history, but other stuff, too. Like remembering watching Reagan's Inauguration with my grandpa when I was a little girl. Like seeing two little girls who love their dad and thinking of my own dad and my sister and I when we were their ages. Seeing the former presidents and vice presidents and first ladies from my lifetime walking (or hobbling) in or not being there at all (like my dad and my grandpa) was like looking at a timeline with my own lifespan clearly marked on it. It's not a long line, even if I'm lucky and only a third of the way through it. I didn't think of it this way on a conscious level until hours later and realize that part of what I cried about was my own mortality.
Then I had a doctor appointment. That made me feel even more like a rusting machine getting ready to be dismissed from operation. It wasn't a good experience and by the end of last night with money stress, the emotions of the morning, sleep deprivation and all of the symptoms I went to the doctor for in the first place, I was really ready for a good night's sleep and too wound up to jump right into it.
Check out my Inauguration Day tweets if you want some more of my reactions to yesterday. Apparently I'm the only person who loved the poem. Other people thought it was robotic -- not a word I'd have chosen to describe it, but even if it was I totally love robots so maybe that's why I liked it. At first I thought her delivery was too contrived, but a few lines into it I just heard the words/saw the moments she captured and thought it was fucking brilliant and spot-on. I burst into tears when she said the last nine words of this chunk:
Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.
I complained yesterday about not hearing anyone comment on the poem (and felt totally annoyed seeing people walking away from the ceremony before she even started; these must be the same assholes who go to watch fireworks displays but leave before the finale because they want to "beat the traffic" but maybe I'm being unkind and they all just have small bladders and/or diarrhea) but now I'm glad I didn't hear any chatter about it on CNN or online (I know it's out there, I just haven't looked for it or read it). I don't know anything about poetry, but I do know I love Walt Whitman and I do know he loved Lincoln and I do recognize nods to Whitman in yesterday's poem and that all of that fits into the deliciously morbid Lincoln-channeling going on with Obama being the first to use the Lincoln bible and doing all of those other following-in-Lincoln's-footsteps black-cat-crossing things.
We spent most of today shopping since we had to make the journey to suburbia for Delia's laser hair removal appointment. It was so much fun hearing people, especially kids, talking about Obama (kid pointing at books & magazines: "look, Mom! It's Barack Obama!"). I hate that I can't shake the feeling of impending doom, though. I know other people have to be feeling it, too. Still, everything's shimmery and sparkly right now . . . very storybook-like (even with the oath do-over). Watching the ceremony yesterday I did halfway feel like I was watching a pre-pre-pre-prequel to Star Trek Next Gen. Like everything good could really come true someday and all of the buildings and monuments were bad backdrop paintings of futuristic architecture.
I don't regularly fantasize about the White House as a super-glamorous place and never have felt like the people living there were royalty the way people felt about the Kennedy years. It's kind of exciting to experience that now; I can't help it, thinking about those girls moving in there and having slumber parties. I'm totally sucked into it. The allure of a lot of chick things (weddings) escapes me but stories involving orphans, boarding school, or preteen girls spending the night in museums or moving into the White House are always going to capture my imagination. It's almost as good as eating buckets of mashed potatoes and gravy, imagining Sasha and Malia safe and happy, the most famous little girls in the world ensconced in THE WHITE HOUSE with closets full of pink clothes and barbies and books and halls to run in and a prissy nanny who tells them stories and feeds them cucumber sandwiches.
I've got some Obama-themed pictures to post from my latest members-only gallery but haven't had a chance to make promos so it'll have to wait. In the meantime you can check out Delia's samples if you're not a member.
Another sad thought I had yesterday was for our friend whose mom just died. I imagined him and AmberLily dealing with their loss and this Inauguration going on at the same time. How weird it would be to feel like everyone in the world is paying attention to this ceremony while they're distanced from it by having a huge personal transition and ceremonies of their own to attend to. When big events coincide with personal crises it can be so isolating and bizarre. I haven't wanted to call them, but I'm definitely thinking of them and hoping for the best for them.
The other night we heard Martin Short ask Conan O'Brien if it's okay to say "penis" on television. Conesy assured him that if it's a "medical" word you can say it on tv. So they said it, "PENIS", over and over. Martin also said, "ding dong", "my unit" and a whole bunch of other terms as he used his hands to indicate EXACTLY what part of his body he was talking about.
Guess what happens if you do a search for "clitoris"? BIG FAT ZERO.
I only learned of this reading Susie Bright's post about this twisted double standard. Of course, to be fair, "vagina" doesn't seem to be considered a dirty word since I just turned on strict filtering and did a search for that term and came up with (considerably fewer than penis) results so . . . yeah.
It IS upsetting and there's clearly a weird double standard; it's hilarious (in a very dark way) that anyone would think a clitoris is more dangerous than a penis, and "dangerous" IS the opposite of "safe", isn't it? Still, I don't know that I feel exactly the same way about it that Susie does, though I think hers is an important perspective full of many truths and that we should all be pissed off about this kind of bullshit. But part of the hate, shame, and willful ignorance of women and women's bodies is wrapped up in the shame and disgust men feel (and women AND MANY *FEMINISTS* REINFORCE AND ENCOURAGE) over straight men's sexual response to women. If it's a part of the body that makes a straight man's dick hard -- something they want to see and touch and lick and talk about and see pictures of -- then it needs to be censored to save those crazed pudwhackers from themselves and the women from the damage that is wrought when men think of women in a sexual way!
I'm not sure "the giant obscene 'F' word in Internet censorship is feminism". Yes, I think this is a feminist issue, for sure, but I don't think the sole or even the primary motive for/cause of banning a word like "clitoris" from google's safe search is a clear desire to silence feminists and shroud women and their bodies in a reinforced veil of ignorance. Sure, that's one of many RESULTS (and there are plenty of places where plenty of people DO make silencing feminists and campaigning against women and knowledge of women's bodies number one on their agenda) and it's easy to see why Susie would feel especially pissed about it when she's not one of the sex-negative feminists who thinks that every boner sprung is a rape waiting to happen (a way of thinking that, combined with the conservative, supposedly apolitical woman's belief that every time a man masturbates to pictures of women who aren't his wife that a family is destroyed, has made the men who are still in charge very eager to PRETEND to try to disapprove along with us of their dirty habit of jacking off over images of our bodies) . . . and when you turn safe search off to find "clitoris", the seventh page-one result is her post on the internal clitoris, etc. Obviously safe search filters could make it harder for Susie to sell books.
A little diversion: laughably, the retarded UNfactual "ask men dating and love tip" page on "understanding the clitoris" ranks higher than Susie's or Scarleteen's pages, but that's probably because a site like AskMen works a lot harder on search engine optimization than educators, artists, writers, political activists, etc.). The web used to be more of a woman, but now it's poorly micromanaged by algorithms cooked up by men. Are their little mathematical formulas conscious attempts to censor feminist obscenities (like truth)? No. I don't think so.
There are so many more pointed ways that women and the truths about our bodies told from our own perspectives are smacked down by corporate censors that the banned google clitoris isn't at the top of my list of things to use as an example. It's the more obvious and uncomplicated stuff I've had to deal with as a pornographer (one of those "commercial porn-makers" Susie identifies as someone who she thinks doesn't suffer from bans and censorship the way artists, writers, educators and political activists do, which is an annoying and probably unintentional slap in the face I've felt delivered from the latter group and their "poor, starving, I-do-it-for-love-not-money mentality" before -- I guess they always think we'll know that they don't mean pornographers like Tony Comstock who of course get to be included as ARTISTES) that really chap my hide as clear-cut cases of misogyny combined with the anti-sex backlash perpetrated by the feminists who deign to speak for all of us. Again, it's not that Susie is one of those people, it's just that I see feminism as one of many complex contributors to internet censorship, not just a victim of it.
So what IS a clear cut case of anti-woman, ignorance-enforcing internet censorship? When credit card companies and their processors tell me my body (and yours, if you're a woman) is OBSCENE when I'm menstruating and I'm not allowed to talk about it or show pictures of it or have sex with myself or other people while I'm having my period on any domain where I make money selling my porn. When they spider our sites looking for banned words, take them out of context and threaten to take away our ability to be paid for our work even when it IS political, educational, artistic, etc. Guess what? Google is not the entity afraid of my bloody pussy. Google is not the entity hiding or demanding I delete blog entries discussing political, legal and ethical issues containing banned words. I just have to cross my fingers when I make posts like this one that they won't come fuck with me, but technically I am defying their terms of service right now by posting this and could have my business shut down because of it. And it's not just "the man" who's against me, it's the (other) feminists, too.
Censorship isn't something you can blame all on men and their holy penises and their desire to stamp out feminism. And I'm starting to rethink that great old joke she mentioned; "if men could get pregnant, abortion would be a sacrament." It's totally true, but I'll bet if that were the case today, feminists would quickly become the new pro-lifers. The gender wars are far from one-sided and I've been hit by a whole fucking lot of "friendly fire" over here on "our" side.
I know I'm being oversensitive and carelessly lobbing my own grenades in the wrong direction at people who are my allies, but oversimplifying everything as "anti-feminist" undermines all of our arguments and neglects to acknowledge the ways that some of feminism's "successes" have led to these failures along the way. There's a bit Bill Maher does that annoys the FUCK out of me to listen to (off-topic sidenote: I didn't like much about "Religulous", fyi), but I can't help thinking of it right now because some of it's true and applicable:
My guess is that banning "clitoris" has very little (if anything) to do with a campaign to censor feminist thought and information and women's bodies, and a whole lot more to do with thoughtlessness along with this thing Bill Maher talks about, with men trained to bow to "feminized"/feminINE values that anything that makes them erect is BAD. When you layer that onto the big problems that we SHOULD be focusing on like a) the people that make decisions in big companies being men, and b) men assuming everyone who uses their tools (like search engines) ARE men, and c) all men are straight, you wind up with guys jumping to the conclusion that any search for a clitoris is one that's going to make someone bust a nut and is therefore unsafe. Or maybe a whole lot of confused and retarded thought WAS put into it (with a, b and c still factored in) and they decided that since, as feminists will proudly point out to you, they've heard that clitoris is the only organ with the sole function of PLEASURE, and MEN HAVE BEEN TAUGHT THAT THEIR PLEASURE IS BAD if they experience it themselves, especially by objectifying women in pictures or on the internet, that it should be banned. Or maybe it's totally ridiculous to imagine ANY THOUGHT WHATSOEVER went into this arbitrary "decision". I highly doubt that a bunch of people came together in a room with a picture of a cock on one side of the chalkboard and a vulva on the other, and came to a consensus that CLITORIS is a dirty word but PENIS isn't, and high-fived each other on the way out the door saying, "right on, man! Another way to stick it to feminism!!"
Ultimately I think it's paranoid to say, "it's been clear for a long time that the giant obscene "F" word in Internet censorship is feminism." And untrue. And I say that as someone who believes it IS true that feminism (and accurate information about women) is censored, misrepresented, considered obscene and something to quash and oppose on a very large, grand scale. I just don't think that's the case here with google and the clitoris, and if you want to point at double standards, the more glaring one is ignoring how much power and influence feminists and women in general have had and continue to wield in censoring the internet, art, and women who capitalize (the first offense) on men's desires by selling them access to their bodies (second offense). It's wrong to imply that feminist writers, artists, etc. have suffered more from internet censorship than pornographers.
Sure, feminist writers, artists, etc. make less money than smut peddlers as a whole, but that disparity has nothing to do with censorship - porn makes money in SPITE of censorship that FAVORS women writers and artists (who don't create graphic material that is VISUAL), and is DEMANDED by the tag team duo of feminists and conservative women. You want to know why most women don't make money on the internet? BECAUSE THEY DON'T WANT TO. Because they don't even try. Because they are content sitting around bitching and blogging and crying on each other's shoulders feeling superior because they aren't whores motivated by money, no they care about PRINCIPLES and getting warm fuzzies commiserating with each other and expect the "community" to take care of them rather than creating something marketable and making enough money to buy influence and support their causes themselves. Because they rely on the man to pay them just enough that they can bitch about it being unfair and that they only do it because they HAVE to, rather than BECOMING the man long enough and with enough success that they can subvert the system. Women don't make money because they love just scraping by and they think that makes them superior to men, because they don't think big except in terms of imagining some big plot designed to keep them barefoot and pregnant.
Whatever. Enough of this baloney -- I need to stop being a hypocrite and make me some fucking money.
Guess what gets the most play on our satellite? It's the XM channel called Audio Visions playing new age music. We have it on almost all of the time; our dog LOVES it, curls up right next to the speakers and trances out. During the day they sometimes play annoying cheesy crap, but at night they start up with "Night Visions" and this creepy woman with a vampire accent practically whispers interjections like, "in the TOETull dahknessss of nighyyt you sseeeee nahthing but ah beeelliyawn starssss . . . NAHthing but peeeeeeeeace, sweeet peeeeeeeeeissssssse. This is oddyo veezhuns, and you haf nighyyt veezhuns."
So yeah, we totally love it and daily mimic her pronunciation of Audio Visions, like when we see the longing look in the dog's eyes and ask, "awwww, do you want your awwjoveezhuns?"
Audio Visions rocks at night when they play spookier, spacier new age music, including delicious programs from Hearts of Space (note: only new age nerds would be oblivious enough to the world to waste an excellent three-letter domain like hos.com on music that once had such a limited audience it could only find space on public radio, but I digress). I've bought a lot of new age mp3's based on play they've gotten on Audio Visions that I never would have heard otherwise.
Because Audio Visions, Night Visions and Hearts of Space have been cheap auditory therapy for our household I'm pretty fucking attached to the channel which is why I'm freaking out today upon seeing the channel name has changed to read, "Spa (replaces Audio Visions)". Does this mean no more Hearts of Space? No more vampires reading poetry accompanied by the sounds of trickling streams, heartbeats and twittering birds?
Of course, it's possible that it won't change, or that if it DOES change it will be for the better, though I doubt it if their recent broadcast of a muzak-styled saccharine rendition of a sickly sweet piano tinkling the precious Beatles' melody "In My Life" layered over ocean waves is any indication of what's to come. Apparently there's some kind of Sirius / XM merger going on which I haven't taken the time to read about but is fucking up almost all of the music we've been enjoying via Directv.
This is even more upsetting to me than when Court TV changed their channel name to the criminally deceptive "TruTV" and amped up their programming with even more super-dramatized crime and disaster "documentaries" with titles like, "Most Shocking" cops and robbers high speed chases with fake sound effects dubbed in. I pray for media literacy to be taught in this country, but I don't hold my breath. Don't get me wrong, I love watching all of that shit, but it pisses me off when mainstream media gets away with passing skewed misrepresentations of real events as "truth" without disclosing how they've distorted it with artifice, bias, and added "production value".
"TRU" my ass! Maybe they think the stupid spelling is enough to act as a disclaimer: TRU! Not true in any boring conventional sense of the word. TRU! Because you don't have time to squeeze in all of those letters, much less all the pesky facts! TRU! As much truth as we can squeeze in between ads from our sponsors! TRU! For people who don't believe in accuracy of reporting OR spelling! I know, I shouldn't take the misuse of words like "reality" so seriously. I guess I'm just old-fashioned that way, especially when I suffer from the double standards that allow television giants to distort and shit all over essential words in our vocabulary while I am threatened with federal obscenity prosecution and having my payment processing taken away if I dare to tell the TRUTH about my body (that blood comes out of my pussy and that's totally healthy and I can and should be able to have sex with myself and others while that's happening). Instead I am forced to misrepresent myself, women's bodies and sexuality by hiding my period on my porn sites.
Seriously, is my bloody cunt more dangerous than using words like "truth" so loosely? How irresponsible is it to degrade the meaning of words that are supposed to be the cornerstones of civilized ethics? I do not trust that all people will intuitively recognize the difference between "TRU" and "true", "reality show" and "reality", or porn pussy and real pussy.
How did this post arrive here? This is why most of my blog entries wallow in draft mode. I'm going to have to start advertising myself as The Naked Non Sequitur. Except it's not really true that I'm naked right now or even most of the time just because I'm a webwhore, but I guess it's TRU enough.
I'm glad there's still no clear winner from yesterday's pick-me-a-blog-topic post because I don't have enough time to blog or masturbate or do anything enjoyable except snatch some tv while we're eating as therapy to recover from the stress of . . . not having enough time/having time sucked up by STUPID stuff. Uncreative, unsexy, uninspiring, frustrating, lame-ass, stupid stuff.
Specifically? Too many hours spent over three (not consecutive, phew!) days replacing our router. Summing it up in one sentence like that hardly seems fair to me and only makes ME look stupid. Like only a dumb fuck could lose days of work on what sounds like such a simple little task. But it wasn't simple (and even when it was, it was still excruciatingly time and money-consuming) and was connected to many other things. Being a camgirl/pornographer? So not fucking glamorous most of the time. And it's not just me: pretty much all of my fellow camgirl/pornographer friends are constantly battling the same obnoxious tech shit that interrupts the fun parts of our jobs and makes us all want to just go bathe in gravy-covered carbs. Tech problems are the ultimate turn-off.
Sometimes when my eyeballs feel like they're about to pop out of my head from the force of my frustration and I start hyperventilating and looking around for things to throw out the window (or AT the window while it's still closed so they'll both make satisfyingly loud shattering sounds), I try to calm down by asking myself, "what would I do if I were an Officer on the Starship Enterprise? I certainly wouldn't behave like this, even if WebWhore Headquarters were about to blow up in forty-five seconds!" Patience! Faith in one's own problem-solving abilities! Barely a sense of urgency: just a confident, one-step-at-a-time pursuit of a solution with nary a raise in my heart rate.
So far this technique hasn't worked for me. But maybe someday it will; it's dorky enough that it might do the trick when nothing else can. Or maybe I just shouldn't skip my Ritalin.
Tomorrow night we're going to *try* to trek to Ron's to do some shooting for IMakePorno. Hopefully I'll have gotten most of my "asshole" out of my system today, part of my tax return done (I *have* to get that done, like, yesterday), my hair colored (it's the color of faded, sun-dried feces from a malnourished cat right now) and have time to pack and plan before we get there.
I am a Starfleet Officer, though. I can do anything.
Actually, I'm like an unholy (and super-irritating) union between Barclay, O'Brien (cranky DS9, O'B) and Quark. Sprinkled with the annoyingly pompous, bossy, hypercritical, controlling, buttinsky loudness of Kira and Riker.
Yes, you *should* feel sorry for my friends and family.
Our friend AmberLily is a big Dexter fan, so her blog and tweets reminded us to check it out. I figured I would love it and looked forward to getting it through Netflix and starting from the beginning.
We only made it through one and a half episodes before we sent it back. In some ways it was just my style; I *DELIGHT* in movies like Gacy, Ed Gein, May and American Psycho. Dexter is stylish, a little campy, witty, etc. I appreciated many aspects of what I saw, but I totally didn't want to spend any more time watching it. Part of the problem was that I loathed the female characters. Another problem is that we watch our netflixed tv shows at night before bed, and Dexter is just too dark and ludicrously violent to be relaxing then.
I'm also hypercritical of stories of vigilantism when the vigilante is a MAN, meting out "justice" for crimes perpetrated against women and/or children. REALLY annoys me (except in the movie Buster and Billie which I *love*).
And it was just too far-fetched. I know, it's in a way that's probably cool to other people but for me was just annoying. I'm pretty hard to please in the crime drama department, preferring/loving the stuff that's openly based on real crimes or is documentary style (almost all the crap on "Tru" tv). Also, since we've been part of shooting a few low-budget movies I have a harder time suspending disbelief when we watch other people's acting; I feel awkward for the actors and wonder how much time went into crafting certain scenes - the veil has been lifted even with the small-scale stuff we done and everything seems so transparent. I felt that way (embarrassed) a lot watching Michael C. Hall in his "action" scenes where he's confronting his victims.
We prefer to watch Star Trek: Deep Space Nine before bed. I know it doesn't make sense when I criticized Dexter for being too far-fetched, but whatever. It makes me feel good to totally escape into a positive, optimistic vision of the future. I like going to sleep with messages of hope. Watching shows like Next Gen, Deep Space Nine, and Northern Exposure is like going to an ideal version of church for me where nobody expects you to believe in God and everyone at least TRIES to treat everybody else with kindness. People express enthusiasm, wonder and awe at the mystery of it all and the boundlessness of possibilities is depicted as something people can experience while they're still alive.
So Deep Space Nine (with help from Weeds, Entourage, Spaced and Big Love) beat Dexter off our queue.
Note to AmberLily: I just want you to know that I started writing this BEFORE you tweeted that you hate Seattle. And I don't hate Dexter as much as you hate Seattle -- I was so close to loving it! Some of the images were so beautiful . . .
Yesterday I walked across a field with my eyes closed. After the heavy grounded feeling of walking in wet sand for almost an hour, walking blind on hard-packed dirt with sunburned grass felt like flying with the wind in my face, blowing my hair around. Or floating, at least. The only other people in the field were three black-robed figures sparring with each other using long sticks. With my eyes closed they sounded like three people playing football. The field was so big it was easy for me to avoid walking into them even without the benefit of sight.
We've been having some private stress around here (on top of the published stress of trying over and over again to get pregnant) so yesterday Delia canceled her show and we *finally* went to see The Dark Knight. I wasn't nearly as excited going into it as I was Batman Begins and didn't feel the same attachment to this one, maybe because I preferred the more solitary focus on Bruce Wayne in Batman Begins and the whole emphasis on creating and finding an alter ego for himself. The imagery in Batman Begins was also darker and more appealing to me in a sort of Robert Louis Stevenson way than Dark Knight, which everyone keeps describing as "darker" than BB but really was just more hideous, brutal and scary. Yeah, the humour was darker and everything felt more tragic because of Heath Ledger's potent brilliance, but that diverted so much attention from Christian Bale that it wasn't really about Batman or anybody except for Heath Ledger's Joker. Oh yeah, I do love the whole commentary on human nature being a dual thing of dark and light, I'm just saying that it didn't speak to me on a deeply personal level the way Batman Begins did.
As I get older, it's harder and harder for me to watch movies without being bored and annoyed by what seems like derivations from other movies I think are "better" or strike me as more original just because *I* happened to see them when I was younger and was first introduced to certain themes. There were a lot of familiar elements in The Dark Knight, but it really was awesome enough that it didn't annoy me, especially since I recognize that there are *no* original ideas (plus, having no familiarity with comics or specialized movie knowledge I KNOW I'm completely ignorant of where some of these things "originated"). I felt like I recognized stuff from In the Line of Fire and freaky cross-dressing a la Silence of the Lambs. Since I know nothing of the comics and never even saw Jack Nicholson's Joker, I couldn't help totally associating the smile/scar with the Black Dahlia, especially since I just picked up another book (with the ghastly pictures) about the case.
Anyway, I loved the magic trick with the pencil and lines like "whatever doesn't kill you simply makes you... stranger." Favorites aside from Heath's performance? Maggie Gyllenhaal's Rachel Dawes was SO much better than Katie's -- LOVED her, and the chase scene/shootout with the semis. We also loved the political commentary on whether or not the threat of terrorism justifies spying on people, etc. Still, I don't feel compelled to see this one more than that once in the theater (unless we could see it in IMAX). I really wasn't prepared for the violence, and of course it always annoys me when there's no swearing in a movie but there's plenty of freaky brutality (I could not hack the part at the end when the dogs and Batman were being beaten with the pipe) and it gets less than an R rating; just having the knowledge in my head that our government is prosecuting people for "obscenity" even for just writing taboo stories and that they refuse to let COPA die makes me resentful when I see how violence in movies is embraced in America as totally acceptable for young people to watch. I can't watch this stuff without thinking, "so THIS is okay for thirteen year olds to see but the sight of my clitoris will scar them for life?" Whatever. It's not that I want kids to see porn or that I don't appreciate a movie without swearing or that I think violent movies should be boycotted, it's the nonsensical double standards that drive me up a wall.
So does Christian Bale's alleged assault of his mom and sister ruin my appreciation of his acting? Ummm, no. Just like a president cheating on his wife has absolutely zero to do with whether or not he's a good president, whether or not Marky Mark is a homophobe or a racist has nothing to do with my enjoyment when I watch Boogie Nights or Entourage and I still think PYT is a fucking awesome song whether or not Michael Jackson is a pedo. Given the rant I just made, it probably surprises you to hear that I don't relate to people who can't enjoy a celebrity's work because of their crimes and supposed personal flaws (which may or may not be true, but we will never know). It's not that I don't enjoy juicy gossip about famous people, but it's just another form of entertainment to me that is separate from whether or not I enjoy their actual work. Like, is it really a surprise to Christian Bale's fans that he's a freak? The guy wanted to starve himself to 100 pounds only eating an apple and can of tuna a day for The Machinist; were you really not aware that he's fucking mental? Apparently, because I've been reading whining from women who think they can't adore him anymore. YOU ARE WATCHING HIS MOVIES, NOT DATING HIM!
So yeah . . . sometimes I can separate things. Other times? Not so much.
In addition to taking the night off for a movie, I also made emergency reservations for a three night stay at the beach next week, so our Sunday, August 10th and Monday, August 11th shows will be canceled. We will do some shooting while we're there, but mostly we just need to get away. Yes, we have a beach here, but Puget Sound and the Strait aren't the same as the actual ocean. I didn't know it until Delia told me, but the timing is perfect because we'll be out there for the meteor shower. She also just happened to order some things from REI before we made these plans so it all fell into place perfectly since the days I happened to find open rooms and camping spots weren't my first pick before I knew these things, but just happened to be after the REI stuff will arrive and during the meteor shower.
During an idle search for free porn from one of my favorite porn stars, Chloe, I ran across the infamous Chloe Sevigny blowjob scene that I, for one, had never heard of until now even though the (art, not porn) movie (The Brown Bunny) came out in 2003:
I've always liked Chloe Sevigny so maybe that contributed to my feeling that the scene is very hot, real and intimate, but when I started googling to find out more about the scene and the movie, I found a blog entry CRITICIZING her "performance" as "sub-par at best". The blogger went on to say that she could have done a much better job herself. Then her commentators decided the scene was probably faked, maybe even with a prosthetic penis (one said that Vincent Gallo didn't seem "the type" to have that large of a cock).
I really despise people who sit at home on the internet criticizing the sex other people have. It's not that I don't appreciate seeing a really beautiful cocksucker with mad BJ skills, but that doesn't take anything away from other blowjob scenes. It would never have crossed my mind to critique this scene in any way; I can only see hotness - she looks and sounds amazing and totally into it, and the action seems recognizably real (to me, at least). I seriously don't understand what other people are thinking, but they strike me as bored, desensitized, horrid little people. Not that I myself have never seen sex scenes that have made me cringe, but Jesus CHRIST! If I were to go on my own rampage about the so-called "porn culture" I'd say this is one its most lamentable characteristics: judging all sex by some artificial porn-blockbuster standard.
Maybe I'm touchy about this because I've been on the receiving end of these critiques myself from people who think that because we have spycams and do live shows that we're asking to be rated and critiqued like we're in the fucking sexual Olympics or something. Regular sex just isn't GOOD enough for some people anymore, even when it's clear that the people having it are totally lost in it and enjoying themselves. I don't even think it's a "porn culture" thing so much as an "extreme sports culture" thing. Like if your actions don't require a recommendation from safety experts for knee pads and a helmet (which of COURSE you will shun because you're a porn/sport DAREDEVIL!) then you're (yawn) BORING and under-skilled. And the internet invites everybody to be a critic and demonstrate BAD FORM in manners and humanity. Ugh!
She sucked her ex-boyfriend's cock on film. What THE FUCK is the big deal? For real! I don't get it. What business do other people have judging her for it? Clearly we haven't become so pornified that people have discarded their fucked up judgmental senses of "decency" and emotionally retarded moral outrage. I know this was five years ago, but I doubt the response would be any different today. People. Suck. COCK. They always have and they always will. And FYI, a BJ has to be really REALLY bad to not be lovely.
Honestly? I only hastily skimmed the post and avoided taking a close look at the comments. Not because I don't think it's a worthwhile discussion. Not because I don't want to help "represent" the feminist pornographers of the world. But because for me right now, the most feminist thing I can do is make money and be free of debt, because paying credit card companies tons of interest is totally not feminist. With that being my focus I view reading and participating in these oft-irrational discussions as a big waste of my time. I was much MUCH happier reading the Feministe post on The Golden Girls which I, of course, agree with.
WARNING: reading the following rambling may be a total waste of YOUR time, but it was highly therapeutic for me to write about it.
I've got a number of drafted blog posts and of course plenty of thoughts about sex, feminism, porn, and all that "good" stuff (or bad stuff, depending on your perspective). But I'll take this opportunity to just briefly touch on a few of my positions and answer the question, in short form, of whether or not I think the porn *I* make is feminist.
*Making money (and especially being self-employed, and especially making GOOD money, ESPECIALLY if it's better money than men are making and especially all of these things in THIS country and cultural context) is feminist. Even if you're making money on something that seems totally counterproductive to feminism.
*The interesting thing -- the KEY thing -- is acknowledging that behaviors and products (and I use that term very loosely -- could be a piece of merchandise or the end result of certain behaviors or a speech or whatever) can be feminist in some ways, and not in others. You can do something that makes feminist progress in one area, but is regressive in another. That duality is intrinsic to the movement(s) and anybody who thinks it's possible to be and live and think and affect 100% feminist is fucking delusional. Because you can't control other people's reactions. Because sometimes making progress in one direction means distancing yourself from another point on your (or the group's) carefully mapped travel plans. Because everybody has something unique to contribute, and while they might excel in one area, they won't in another. THAT'S WHY WE NEED DIFFERENT WOMEN REPRESENTING DIFFERENTLY. Because it's not feminist at all to think we all want the same things, or to demand that we pursue the same things. Because it's humanly impossible to consistently put FEMINISM before yourself all the time. Because for some of us feminism means putting OURSELVES (specifically MYSELF or YOURSELF, in your case if you are a woman) first. Because life is just way more complex than "feminist" or "not feminist".
Maybe it's like a big scavenger hunt. There are tons of things on our list, things we should have RIGHTS to. Maybe you go look for education. Maybe sister over there goes and looks for health care. Maybe another goes and looks for safety. I hope there's someone out there looking for reparations. MAYBE I WILL LOOK FOR THE MONEY. Maybe I will look for proof that my body is not YOUR body, and maybe you'll be fucking confused because you think that if I sell my body to a man that I'm violating YOURS. Maybe I will have time to hold your hand and we can find RATIONAL THOUGHT together, huh? Wouldn't that be nice. Maybe we'll all accept that we all have the right to anger, and that a lot of it is righteously directed at each other.
Maybe you have no clue how often I advocate for some of the most unpopular feminist causes and rights while I am in some of the most hostile environments for doing so in the first world. Maybe you have no idea how much thicker the leather is on my militant boots than yours and your buddies, with your unproductive running-off-at-the-mouth. Maybe you underestimate how much more effective being feminist is on this platform than on yours. Maybe I love getting ALL. FIRED. UP! Maybe that's why I suppress my work on it so often. Because that fire comes close to incapacitating me with screaming.
This is so not short or coherent the way I planned for it to be, but it's making ME feel better, and THAT is feminist.
*Do I, Trixie, make feminist porn (if such a thing exists)? I do think feminist porn exists/is possible. I totally disagree with anyone who thinks it's a contradiction in terms. At the root of that mistaken belief is a huge double standard regarding PLEASURE, but that's a topic for another time.
Many people would say, "yes, Trixie's porn is feminist". I personally would say that the the individual chunks of porn I/we make are only feminist sometimes. I will also say that I do not *want* all of the porn I make to be feminist. Because my sexuality and personality do not always cooperate with feminist ideals, nor do other people's. Because our fantasy worlds cannot and should not be bound by politics. Because sex as we experience it/feel it TRANSCENDS politics (even if it never transcends politics in reality). Because sometimes you specifically fantasize about un-feminist things because your ideals have created such intensely taboo triggers. Because it wouldn't be feminist to deny myself all of me. Because the most feminist thing I can do is MAKE MONEY and to represent myself as a feminist while I do it.
The major way my work is feminist (outside of or next to the money-making arena) is that I consistently remind people who I belong to (MYSELF) in contexts where it is unexpected. My body belongs to me. I consistently assert my will, my self-ownership, even when it is counterproductive to making sales. My work as a whole is feminist because I REFUSE TO BE A NON-PERSON or a partial person or a person only part of the time. Anybody who looks at my work as a whole (or even/often just in small parts) can see that I REPRESENT MYSELF AS A WHOLE PERSON. To an extent that I think very VERY few people, men OR women, in ANY industry or from any walk of life, are willing to do or are allowed to do or know how to do or are brave enough to do or have risked as much to do. I AM A WHOLE PERSON, and my work in porn is contained within that and presented from that place of wholeness. Being a whole person and INSISTING UPON wholeness everywhere is awesomely feminist. Paradoxically it means that I cannot BE wholly feminist or affect in feminist ways all of the time.
I could spend a lot of time describing what I mean by "a whole person", but I'll just clarify a little by saying I don't mean "perfect" or "finished" when I say "whole" On the contrary, I mean I am and deserve to be and insist upon staking my claim on IMperfection, meeting my primitive needs, fucking-up, growing sideways and in general pursuing happiness.
You *can* make feminist progress in your own life and in others' by making art that is gender conscious, class conscious, and power conscious EVEN WHEN your representations of it are stereotyped and politically incorrect (sometimes BECAUSE they are, especially if they're totally campy and over-the-top). Especially when it acts as therapy and finds meaning/truth. And MOST especially when it's presented in a broader context that is overtly or even covertly political and/or built on a feminist foundation or told by a feminist voice (even when some of those stories and characters played are distinctly NOT feminist).
I, presenting myself as a whole person, am the context. In everything I do. And I am feminist. That is the powerful truth in my life and work and someday I hope I'll be better at articulating it.
When people make fun of The Golden Girls I always experience a wave of cognitive dissonance; they dismiss it as something "old" and irrelevantly feminine when I never did and WILL never perceive it that way at all. For me? The Golden Girls was a groundbreakingly progressive, hysterically funny, humanist show. Sitcom television at its very best next to a few others on my list: Laverne & Shirley, The Office, Married with Children and maybe a couple others. In terms of sitcoms having a major inspiring influence on me, The Golden Girls might actually be unparalleled (Laverne & Shirley would be a second, though).
I watched this show with my grandparents and at the time didn't even realize how dirty, biting and often macabre the jokes were. I watch this show NOW and am amazed by how edgy it STILL is. To me, a pornographer. Suicide Girls? NOT edgy. Sex and the City? Not really edgy. Golden Girls? YOU CAN'T TOUCH THEIR EDGINESS! You can always count on Rose for some naively delivered bestiality stories or to be fucking a midget or a dead guy. One of The Golden Girls fucks a new guy in every episode, but not in that hyperfocused SATC way.
I'm guessing people who mock The Golden Girls have never watched it. If so, the reasons they mock it are telling; it MUST be bad if it's about old people and ESPECIALLY bad if it's about old people who are WOMEN. I can't abide anyone who doesn't appreciate The Golden Girls or dismisses that show with a condescending chuckle. It's like a slap in the face from someone with really bad aim; it doesn't physically hurt, but it makes my blood boil.
When we went to see Sex and the City the movie we all discussed which girl we are or which one other people think we're most like. And you know what? I'D RATHER BE A FUCKING GOLDEN GIRL. And I don't mean that as a huge dis to SATC, I really mean The Golden Girls are my idols. I believe that show was more proactively feminist than anything on network television. EVER. When I grow up? I want to be a Golden Girl. I can barely think of a higher aspiration.
I'm feeling really blessed to have good friends that I love after spending a few days totally spoiled with good company: Kris Madison and Amberlily drove all the way out to our remote locale so we could have a Sex and the City slumber party (Amberlily's fun idea). Seeing the movie was entertaining, but the best part was just spending time together and having the chance to talk. Half the time we were off cam (in other rooms or out of the house) or had the audio off so we could speak freely, so it might not have been a big treat for the voyeurs, but for ME? It was heavenly. I actually feel *rejuvinated*.
We did spend a lot of last night in bed talking (with the audio *on*) which was probably pretty entertaining for voyeurs to listen to (or not, depending on their perspectives); we had insanely heated arguments (I almost lost my voice/damaged my own hearing with my own high pitched protestations) about really inconsequential shit (which is the best kind of thing to debate). Does Holly Madison "deserve" better than Hugh Hefner who tells her she's not photogenic enough to be a centerfold? Do Tim Harrington's (of Les Savy Fav) performances insult/make fun of his audiences or are they a layered casserole of joy? Those two questions, their characters' milieus, and the surrounding issues were the basis of HOURS of delightful discussions.
For once I don't feel like I need a day off to recuperate after socializing (just a little catch-up on sleep), so before bed tonight I'm going to try to plan a couple of good shoots for tomorrow and get them out to my members as soon as possible.
Connie Francis Sings the All Time International Hits
When I was little I used to play a particular Connie Francis album (like, an actual vinyl record; they had those when I was growing up) over and over again which I've not been able to find, nor can I found on cd most of the songs that were on it which BREAKS my heart. But OH, youtube, you have allowed me to hear these songs again:
"What Now, My Love? (ET MAINTENANT)
I wish I could find a picture of the album cover because I *worshiped* her (along with the "Whipped Cream and Other Delights" girl). Just one picture of Connie Francis, a column of majestic, sensual, unsmiling beauty.
Name one contemporary pop singer who holds a CANDLE to this woman! Oh my god. And her presentation: women are not admired anymore for being regal and occupying an ageless space that doesn't smack of jailbait.
Wait! The photo from the album is displayed in the 25th second of this one (wish it was in color like on the album; her dress was pink):
"And I Love Him"
The muted trumpet in here drives me MAD with its ballsy drama:
I desperately wish this guy posted all of the songs, because there are some great ones missing. Still, I'm so jazzed to hear that voice singing these songs again. I know I LEARNED things from listening to that album, from listening to her and looking at that photograph of her.
Oh dear, here's another one that EXCITED me:
Oooh, I found the picture even if it is undersized:
This is the edition I have of Peyton Place. I totally should have given my hair lady a bigger tip for letting me keep it. Anyway, if you haven't already read, it YOU SHOULD!
This week I've been working on Trixie.com; I'm making it a place for people to get more of my blog entries all in one place. I want people to have a reason to visit it every day, if not for the blogging then for the free porn. As I develop more of my domains into little niche-oriented blog sites I think it will be cool to have all of those posts feed into one bigger site instead of people who know me jumping around from one blog to the others.
I really want people to get in on seeing ALL of the work we're doing instead of just a narrow chunk of it. Towards that end it helped last year to start giving our members access to ALL of our sites instead of just one. Syndicating a handful of our best (or most fun) blogs on one site is like the free-side version of that.
I own Sheila E.'s "Glamorous Life" cd and it's one of those discs that every so often I NEED to hear. I must have been about eleven when that video came out and on top of being fantastic just because the song was cool and everything about it was so Princely, it was influential to me because of Sheila E. and the way she "performs" in it:
I'm not talking about that one drumstick in her hand for show, I'm talking about her posture and commanding demeanor. The way she kicks that cymbal. Her snappy confidence and the tight execution of every move she makes (again, I know it's a whole Prince choreography thing, but still). And the knowledge that she actually IS a drummer, a good drummer, that was/is a big thing. That video and song aroused so many different kinds of excitement in me, I'm not sure I could number them. So now when we watch her on The Next Great American Band (go Clark Brothers!) I still have so much respect for her that I don't even bat an eyelash at her Christian evangelism.
We happened to turn on a PBS great performance thingy JUST IN TIME to see/hear Jeff Beck playing with a female bass player who looked about fourteen years old, her perky titty bouncing and framed by the curve of her instrument. In spite of that distraction it was obvious SHE IS MASSIVELY TALENTED and extraordinary (and, in fact, over 21). Her name is Tal Wilkenfeld and I am in love. This YouTube video doesn't do the sound/performance justice, but it gives you an idea of what made us stop everything and just drink her in, happy we were so lucky to change the channel just in time:
I love seeing talented women make mean, ugly faces while performing BRILLIANTLY.
It's too bad that when most people refer to something about a woman that's "tight", they aren't usually referring to her sharply, perfectly executed prodigious talent It's too bad that I couldn't stop looking at her booby. Or maybe it's just too bad that the combination of talent, voice, and physical provocation are such a challenge for many of us to process and comfortably accept in one package.
Anyway, I can't think of any recent female pop artist presenting herself the way Sheila E. did or does. Can you?
Going to stop now before I start posting buttloads of awesome "girl"-drummer vids.
It's very strange to walk through a bookstore and have my eyes captured by so many familiar authors and editors: people I know through the blogosphere, people with whom I've exchanged emails and links, people I've met in "real" life, and even people who have or are about to send me contracts and checks to put my own work in their volumes. It's not the least bit glamorous, but it feels that way anyway because I know OTHER people (horny nineteen year old college girls with sensitive nipples, I hope) might think it's dreamy and impressive because they don't know any better. Right now it feels super cool to me because I feel like it happened to me by accident, without intent I'm a dork and it's COOL to look at names on the spines of books and think to myself, "talked to HIM on the phone, met HER on porn set, commiserated with HER regarding obnoxious blog fans, was stark naked at HER house, am quoted in THAT book, blah blah blah".
I can whittle the vanity down to something even simpler, though; it's delightful knowing some of those book people know who I am. It's neat-o to be in a public place surrounded by people who think books and the people who write them are really cool, and to feel "special" because some of those people whose names are on books because they're responsible for the content inside of them, SOME OF THOSE PEOPLE KNOW WHO *I* AM!!
Through my porn sites I have attained a degree of immortality. It sounds crazy, but it's true and it fascinates me. So much of the work I do amplifies and extends my living; I do feel like I'm more alive because so many people KNOW that I'm living, WATCH me living, READ me living, etc. It's heady, powerful stuff that overfeeds my most basic, primitive survival instincts. Maybe my own instincts have gone off the rails or I'm unwittingly describing the hallmarks of some kind of pathology, but whatever. Some people cheat death through extreme sports to feel more alive, some people have kids, some people perform acts of heroism . . . but I feel more alive simply because a few bloggy book people (along with thousands of men who've become erect and spilled seed over my web-graven images) know who I am.
The idea of low-level celebrity is becoming more and more intriguing to me as it becomes more common in our world and as I attain some of it in a barely-measurable way. If Kathy Griffin is D-list, I guess I'm somewhere around Y, which as you know is right next to nothing; it may not be much, but it's an eye-opening position granting me a zillion unblocked views into the various phenomena associated with fame and its varying degrees. Even if you are decidedly NOT famous, if there are a dozen people in the world who assume you must be and they communicate that assumption to you in a prone position of worship you DO learn something about the condition. Most of the time you just snicker to yourself because the concept of YOU being FAMOUS is ludicrous and hysterical, but you still have to recognize that you're experiencing something that most people don't and in that way you are exceptional. You are, for example, the exception in the bookstore, not the rule.
Fucking has been a daily event for the past few days, and will continue to be for the next couple of weeks as we continue trying to get pregnant. Thanks to some good timing with Netflix and some splendid hand-me-downs from a blog reader (thank you very much for Mr. Beaver and Squirm Sockets, which I especially like), we have some hot movies to accompany our wholesome procreative sex efforts. WARNING TO VOYEURS: if you're expecting wild, nonstop sex in a variety of positions during our baby-making attempts you're bound to be disappointed. We don't want to overdo it, and we're aiming to finish in the missionary position every time for maximum spooge retention.
I'm now going to go poop. The reason I'm telling you this is because it makes me feel so ALIVE when I talk about pooping. If I pooped and nobody knew about it, I would feel half-dead, but knowing that my stinky essential ritual of daily life is haunting strangers around the world? I feel like a god. Like a god who doesn't carelessly use his divinity to give up on pooping, because a true god knows that it feels so pleasurable when the poop stretches the anus.
The weather is now gloriously cooler and damper than when we shot these pics, which are my last bonafide summer photos for 2007:
So, what have I been up to?
*Tweeting instead of blogging (though I've actually been laboring for a week over a blog entry involving scary pussy pics; I'll post it one of these days, but both the writing and the topic are near-tragic)
*Setting up our cool new schedule for fans of our shows and spycams; it's a google calendar and a much better way to communicate exactly where and when we'll be "performing" since we appear on more than ten different sites regularly (three spycam sites, three cam show networks, and an assortment of venues for private shows and phone sex).
*Fucking (we are still trying to get pregnant, and it's consuming a sort of big area of my attention especially since it's connected to Delia's transition; she/we had her last therapy appointment to get the go-ahead for a report to an endocrinologist recommending her for hormones; if we don't get pregnant now, or even if we do, we also want to have some of her sperm frozen which is a whole project in itself requiring money, research, and determining what her sperm count is in the first place). I'll write more about that in other blogs and post links when I do.
*Doing fun camshows and chat sessions while also suffering a moderately nasty weekend headache which I've decided to blame on Celestial Seasonings Roastaroma tea, which I LOVE but inexplicably (and perhaps only coincidentally) winds up with me having a migraine the day after I drink a cup.
*Housecleaning (a soul-sucking yet mildly gratifying labor after you invest enough hours into it and stay focused on one thing at a time); we have fresh flannels on our bed, a clean mossy-green wet-autumn-colored comforter, and my nightstand crumbs and piles have been dispersed. The television is dusted and windexed, ready to shine the light of fall programming on our stupefied faces; I've not been this "into" television since I was ten years old and plotted my life around the tv guide when I stayed over at my grandparents' house. I just happened to pick up one of my favorite crap magazines with ads and descriptions of all the new shows popping up on the networks so I decided to try something new (because I seriously have never ever done this in my entire life): I want to watch all of the pilots, even the dumb ones that I really don't want to see. Okay, I've already failed because I'm *not* going to watch that new Frasiery newscaster show, but I am totally looking forward to Kid Nation and Dirty Sexy Money. Does anyone have any guesses as to whether the Geico caveman show is going to suck or be great? I'm one of the apparent millions who loves those commercials and am hoping they aren't just ruining a good thing making a whole series out of it. I'm very curious about how the copyrights and stuff work for that (but not curious enough to google it and actually find out who paid who what to make it happen).
*Stressing out a little about money since our extension to file our taxes expires next month. On a positive note, I feel myself gearing up for a cycle of productivity and happy hard work. I feel like I'm just coming out of a period of slack time. It's been great to feel less driven and consumed by work; I needed to slow down a little and have more lazy time. I feel ready to step up and put my nose back down to the grindstone, though. It's dysfunctional, but I do feel more excited and motivated when I'm on the brink of financial ruin (like maybe not being able to pay our 2006 taxes while I'm still making payments on 2005). I know, I know, some of you nervous nellies are aghast that we're considering creating our own small human under such dire circumstances, but seriously; the worst case scenarios are really not all that bad. And I'm not genuinely concerned "the worst" or even anything all that bad will happen. Call me crazy, but just do it in your own bubble and not in the comments because I don't want to hear it. I already know I'm insane. We don't need to discuss it.
After ranting about the need to protect my identity with a stage name, I just discovered I accidentally used the real name of a guy I fooled around with. Here is the beginning of the story, with his name consistently changed (in the story I used a fake name 75% of the time, but his real name the other 25%):
All of the girls in our dorm creamed their white Christian panties over Treat, the Hawaiian guy who lived on my floor. Hell, all of the girls OUTside of our dorm creamed their white Christian panties over him. I thought he was an idiot, but as time went on I confess to creaming my panties over him too. I distinctly remember staring at the bump under his white towel as he roamed our floor after a shower, and wanting some of whatever he had under there. Wanting to get a load of it, both figuratively and literally speaking.
Once my friend and I spent a casual evening in her room with Treat, interrogating him as to WHY IN THE WORLD so many girls seemed powerless to his charms. What was his secret? How did he weave his cheesy spell over them? After feigning modesty for awhile (part of his signature appeal), he revealed with intense seriousness that he learned everything from his favorite television show in junior high: Beauty and the Beast, starring Linda Hamilton as the beauty and Ron Perlman as the Beast. Yes, you read the plot description correctly: "The adventures and romance of a sensitive and cultured lion-man and a crusading District Attorney assistant".
Okay. So I watched the fucking Paris Hilton interview on Larry King the other night. I know it sounds like I'm unwaveringly harsh and disdainful of these celebrities, but the truth is I always feel compelled to watch interviews with the little tarts I dislike the most BECAUSE I HOPE THEY'LL REDEEM THEMSELVES so I can stop hating them because I don't like hating people -- I think it's mean and unhealthy. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't. Example: Scarlett Johansson? Has never redeemed herself in any interview I've watched -- she consistently sounds stupid. I don't like how much I can't stand her and I know it's not HER fault that critics are so blinded by her beautiful breasts that they inanely compare her to truly amazing women like Lauren Bacall. So I try not to hate Scarlett and keep hoping something will turn up to make me actually LIKE her.
Anyway, I found my attitude towards Paris softening even while she lied through her teeth to Larry King (has never done drugs? doesn't like alcohol? Honey, I've *read* about you in ex-millennial girl's blog and she is a TRUSTED SOURCE). I found myself giving her credit for using her very average intelligence as deftly as she could to answer each question Very Carefully and in ways that were often endearing. Sure, there were things that made me wince but they made me feel sorry for her instead of hating her.
The coolest thing about Paris in her post-jail Larry King interview was how she didn't seem to try to distance herself at all from jail thing; she kept saying things a regular rich celebrity would try to avoid saying because it just sounded so common, hearing her repeat, "I've served my time" as though she's a hardened ex-con. She didn't sit there protesting that she shouldn't have been in jail at all, she was like, "I tried to follow the motto to not serve the time, but to make the time serve me." It was hysterical!!
I loved the way she sounded like a college kid who just got back from a study abroad program and found out about starving children in Africa. When she talked about wanting to help the women in jail who get out but keep coming back because they have nowhere to go but the streets when they're released, she actually seemed sincere. And when she talked about wanting to speak with a more mature voice? I thought, "good for you, Paris! Maybe Cameron Diaz will make that a goal too!"
Years ago, I actually joined the Hotel Heiress site to watch her sex tapes and I think that was part of what made me dislike her so much because she just seemed so empty and flaccid. At the same time I was able to see the appeal of her face and her bullshit act and her perky little boobs. It was depressing to watch the bad, boring sex and the window into these people's horrid interactions with each other, but it was also reassuring. You can't watch that and envy her at all -- it's just not possible. Who wants to have bad sex, bad conversation, and a totally flat ass? I don't care how rich you are, it's not worth it if you're bored by sex, can't hold a decent conversation with anyone, and can only entertain yourself by trying to look fetching.
Free clips from the scandalous Paris Hilton sex tapes:
Note: I know a lot of people would criticize the fact that I paid money to see those Paris sex videos when she doesn't get a dime from it and I could have found it free somewhere, but it was just simpler to me to join the site and not worry about downloading a virus or something. It was more expedient and I would have felt just as bad to have seen it for free as to have paid money to her exploiters.
I just read a book that felt like it was all about my life, even though it's about many women and many different ways the internet is a tool for our sexual exploration: Naked on the Internet: Hookups, Downloads, and Cashing in on Internet Sexploration. To be fair, I was one of the (many) people interviewed by the author, Audacia Ray, so portions of the book ARE specifically about me and webwhoring; I guess I shouldn't act surprised that some of it speaks directly to my experiences, but for THE WHOLE ENTIRE BOOK to feel so relevant to me from page one throughout chapters that I *wasn't* interviewed for?
It is *thrilling* to hold a bundle of pages representing women's history in my hands and know that our experiences have been fairly represented and intelligently preserved by someone who knows what she's talking about and is part of this phenomenal webby wave of self-publishing, sexual agency, capitalism and more. It is *thrilling* to know that our friend wrote our stories in a way that is intimate, readable and entertaining in addition to being smart and informative. It is *thrilling* knowing this book can stand the test of time to continue telling our stories and marking our spots in history for generations to come -- because of NOTI's wide scope of coverage, Dacia's deftness in developing context without getting bogged down in boring details with expiration dates (hard to avoid when you're talking about technology), and her facility in introducing tons of people, projects and ideas in a way that breeds instant familiarity, this book is top drawer stuff for anyone now or in the future who gives even half a shit about women, our impact on the internet and its very personal impact on us.
Aside from appreciating the book's history-making, I loved reading it because it provoked an awareness in me of what I do, have done and want to keep doing; it made me reflect upon and examine my life from a more distant vantage point than I usually stop to consider (and a basic reminder of how the internet has allowed my life to be something better and very different from what it would be without it). It also accomplished something I haven't thought possible for myself in a long time; it made me feel connected to a huge group of women with common experiences.
I actually took a bunch of notes while I read the book, so I'm going to be writing a few follow-up posts sharing more personalized enthusiastic responses about stuff like immortality, cyberdildonics, personal blogging, etc.
While Delia is webwhoring today/tonight, I'm driving her crazy with cam issues and complaining that she's not in the spycam chat. I'm sure she loves that. When I'm not busy doing that, I've been working on other stuff, eating, DDRing, and READING.
An engrossing book, finally! I was trying to take a break from true crime, but this true story of James Ellroy's mother's murder beckoned to me: My Dark Places. Yeah, the guy who wrote L.A. Confidential and The Black Dahlia, neither of which I've read (but did digest in movie form).
Having just opened the book today, I'm not too far into it yet but as a woman and sex worker (and true crime story hobbyist) I'm intrigued by the perspective of a boy who lost his mother in a brutal sex crime and then became a man making his living creating popular entertainment out of stories of -- you know -- brutal sex crimes. I suppose it's nothing new, these stories told by men of raped and murdered women, but Ellroy is a good storyteller and this particular story is incredibly personal so it's fascinating the way he starts out with such a depersonalized narrative maintaining a giant distance between his adult self, the little boy he was at the time, and his mother. I can't wait to see how it progresses.
You know how people like to point at sex workers and label them damaged goods, drawn into the sordid skin trade never by choice but always by some history of past and present victimhood? Yeah, you know what I'm talking about. We do our jobs because we were sexually abused or because we've been brainwashed by pop culture into thinking we're only valuable as sex objects, blah blah blah. And we need to be rescued.
You don't hear people saying that about the James Ellroys or the cops, though, do you? Because men are not victims, they are HEROES. They turn it around and do something PRODUCTIVE with their lives, right? But sex work . . . THAT'S not productive. No, but if I were to write books with pictures of dead swollen-headed mommies that would be okay -- not damaged at all! Talented . . . rich . . . respected and admired. You can respectably write stories which are made into movies featuring mutilated skin-flick actresses and you don't have women trying to adopt you out of your life of crime and rehabilitate you into a humble-but-DECENT job (ex. flipping burgers at McDonalds, helping at a daycare in an inner city, or maybe teaching if you're smart enough) the way they would if you were a sex worker. Funny how that works, eh?
*FurryGirl is going to be on Night Calls! I don't have an actual link to it, but here's a quote from her members-only area:
I've been invited to be a call-in guest on "I've been invited to be a call-in guest on Playboy Radio's Night Calls with Ginger Lynn and Christy Canyon. (If you have Sirius satellite radio, I hope you'll be able to tune in!) They'd like to talk to me about Veg Porn and the Veg Sex Shop for Earth Day, which is Friday the 20th. It's really cool to get that level of media attention for my sites, and I'm excited about it.
Follow-up analysis: See, for some reason I can't imagine anyone thinking that these people would be healthier or more productive if they were writing books about savage woman-killings instead of making porn. It just doesn't make sense to me.
Can someone settle something for me? I've been going around pronouncing Ricky Gervais' name like this: "jurr-VASE". But then someone or sometwo tried to tell me it's "JURR-vuss". I was all set to start saying JURR-vuss, but then I watched a video on youtube where he clearly pronounces his own name as Ricky jurr-VASE (approximately minute 2 and 43 seconds). Is he just kidding around? Who's right? More importantly, who's wrong?
It's vital that I get an answer to this question. After all, I have an inspirational photograph of Ricky Gervais hung on my wall right above my computer monitor where I can look at it everyday. Okay, it's not really on my wall YET, but I have the magazine with the photo that I have every intention of ripping out and sticking to my wall. With Philip Seymour Hoffman's cum for glue. I like them sweaty and chubby.
I knew it would be funny, but having never seen Sin Cities on television I didn't realize the potential for our fifteen minutes of potential tv infamy to mock us so deliciously. And aren't those chopsticks on my boobs HILARIOUS?
I've heard that the whole episode is due to air in April sometime so check your local listings if you're in the UK or one of the many other countries with access to Sin Cities.
Ashley Hames gives serious direction to me and Tucker.
I strip for the vicar.
I think I'm Ricky Gervais' long lost cousin! Seriously, don't I resemble him or am I flattering myself?
FYI: Ashley squirts my face with cum during the making of the "movie" and the always-appreciated Jackhammer Jesus dildo features prominently in the graveyard scene.
I've enjoyed a fantastic week and a fantastic birthday, so fantastic, in fact, that I'm in worn-out hermit mode. THIS is also a contributing factor in my fatigue.
I think I might also be a little bit depressed; getting to spend so much time with family this week was so pleasant that I feel frustrated we live hours away from each other. My face still hurts from grinning at my nephew. It bothers me that I can't see him whenever I want to at the drop of a hat, and I blame myself. I blame myself for not making enough money to have more reliable transportation to make visiting easier. I blame myself for not making enough money to have a bigger television so we could all watch Borat without eyestrain. I blame myself for not making enough money to have a house where everyone can stay and be comfortable and stretch out for days and weeks and months at a time. I blame myself for not making enough money to help out my family with their own financial woes. I blame myself for not getting ahead on work stuff so that I could hang out without having to think about what I needed to accomplish.
Being around a nine-month old child carrying portions of my DNA alters my perspective on a lot of things, too. My perspective on what I do for work, for example, and the stand I take on certain free speech issues. The maternal instinct is really one of emotional hysteria, I think, which overwhelms my family-unfriendly intellectualizations of certain issues. I'm being vague, I know, but my point is just to share that I feel a little tipped-over and unsteady, and yes -- I do have a maternal instinct. It's been pretty easy for me to deny it since I've not been around little kids for extended periods of time for the past thirteen years, but I was never one of those people who totally didn't understand wanting kids (I just wanted NOT to have them more, or to have foster kids which is out of the question now for me: my only real regret about entering this line of work and being so open about it). I'm also just worn out from the crazy emotions of the intense joy (observing my nephew, hearing him, feeling him, smelling him, making him laugh and smile) combined with intense anxiety (irrationally fearing for his life when he's sleeping, crying, wobbling, etc.). And it's not just my nephew, but seeing my sister. My little sister as a mom. My little sister and her son, who shapeshifts between her, her husband/his dad, my grandpa, my uncle, my grandma . . . I've always been close to my sister so combining the enormity of love and awe and protectiveness I feel for her with the enormity of love and awe and protectiveness I feel for her child / my nephew is just SO BIG that it's a shock to my system once Tucker and I are alone in the house again.
This morning I watched morning television on the networks (the "news" and The View) and that made me feel strange, too. I never watch that stuff in the morning (I think I've only watched The View a few times with my mom) and I felt like I was on another planet or had entered a parallel universe or something. The whole thing felt totally surreal. There was Rosie and Barbara and Joy and what's-her-stupid-face, all talking about their children and partners and family . . . talking to one another like they are "real people" having a normal conversation but they're on a stage entertaining hoardes of strangers, totally detached and disconnected from their children and families and real friends. And there I was, lying alone in bed, mouth unmoving except to chew food. My arms sore and heavy repairing from the unaccustomed lifting of my nephew's weight earlier this week. Conspicuously empty.
Wow -- we REALLY needed to take a day off today, so I haven't accomplished anything besides resting my weary old bones. We did just watch Talladega Nights, though. Does it surprise you to hear that I enjoyed it? I don't think the climactic kiss held a candle to the one in Baseketball, though.
We also watched the first episode of the new cycle of America's Next Top Model. I was *furious* that Kathleen was the first to go; I'm all for the plus-size models (well, model -- I'm rooting for Whitney but I think Diana should have been kicked off before Kathleen). What kind of message does it send to young girls telling them that models can be heavyweights but they can't be stupid? I was shocked, frankly.
We were also stunned by the loss of AJ from American Idol. We love Sanjaya and everything, but I truly believe there are some Indian hackers out there fucking with the votes. Aside: I don't normally go for skinny young men, but I find Sanjaya extremely attractive. Plus, you know, he's local! We're still rooting our hardest for Blake (though "rooting" doesn't actually involve voting since we don't normally watch the show until after the lines have closed).
My least favorite AI contestants are Jordin Sparks and Phil Stacey. I like french toast better than waffles. I fantasize about being the meat in a Blake Lewis and Chris Sligh sandwich. Most annoying Idol behavior: SMILING during sad songs -- you should not have a shit-eating grin on your face while singing "Careless Whisper".
I'm uploading another unplanned long video to my members area right now so I'm going to take a break while that finishes (it takes a long time to put a long video onto a website, same as it takes a long time to download a long one as a member). We'll watch the recorded girls-night of American Idol during this break, in case you feel like spying to listen to who we're rooting for.
For voyeurs who have time to hang out during our west-coast morning, I posted this on the spycam site:
This morning while I had my morning tea I decided to drag the old laptop into bed and log into the chatroom while watching/listening to the news on television.
I think this might become a habit, but I won't be scheduling the exact time since my waking routine and morning hours vary so much; you'll just have to watch and see if you'd like to be part of my morning routine!
When I fill up my hot water bottle in the bathroom and make my tea in the kitchen, it's a pretty good sign I'll be getting into bed with my breakfast soon, so if you see me in bed with the laptop you'll know I'm probably in the chatroom.
For those of you actually taking the time to read this, I probably don't need to explain that these morning chat sessions are meant to be relaxing, casual chats, NOT strip shows or sex performances. As always, I do not fulfill requests in group chats; my morning cup of tea is one of my favorite special me-things to enjoy, so anyone who distracts from that or makes unpleasantly selfish demands will be booted and/or I will end the chat session.
Things I like to chat about: current events, music, movies, etc. I also like to hear about YOU: where you live, your hobbies and interests, etc.
So yeah . . . if you want to have a regular conversation with me online and you're already a member (and if you're available at that time, which is most convenient for my UK pals, it seems, and my guys who work for themselves and are taking lunch around that time), this will be a nice chance to catch up with each other. I'm not sure if it will become a regular tradition or not, but I definitely enjoyed myself this morning.
Believe it or not, I have some really lengthy blog entries drafted but sometimes I like to sit on those for awhile or I have a hard time finishing them. Just so you know.
Tonight, the CW network will air an episode of Veronica Mars that is based on misleading right-wing claims about contraception. The show is about a young woman named Veronica Mars, who is both a college student and a part-time private investigator. This week, Veronica is hired by Bonnie, “a promiscuous classmate, to find out who secretly slipped her the morning after pill, causing her to have a miscarriage“
PLAN B IS DESIGNED TO *****PREVENT***** PREGNANCY, not to terminate it. It's simple, yet there is (and has been for years) widespread intentional ignorance perpetuated on what should be a very simple matter. VERY. SIMPLE.
Subtly lying to people about how emergency contraception works is yet another piece of seriously dangerous propaganda floating free on the boob tube that I think is WAY worse than internet porn in terms of our obligation as a society to regulate and "crack down" on irresponsible media. So let's crack down on them!
"Veronica Mars is extremely popular among young women, the very women who need accurate health information. E-mail Paul Hewitt, CW’s Director of Publicity, and tell him that CW needs to correct its information on emergency contraception."
The night before the game we decided to watch Invincible. Overall I enjoyed it more than I enjoyed Dreamgirls, but it was difficult for me to root for the guy. Not two minutes into the movie HE LITTERS!!!! How can I root for someone WHO LITTERS??? I thought this movie was supposed to be wholesome and Disneyfied! Whatever.
I can't get behind a movie built around a character who's not allowed to cuss but is depicted LITTERING with impunity!! Then we see him unable to manage his anger, vandalizing his own apartment!!!! Vandalism and littering, those are two behaviors I just canNOT abide. To top it all off he and his buddies are total retards, playing neighborhood tackle football with full contact and no protection. How am I supposed to cheer for such an idiot? How can Disney glorify such incredible stupidity? What a poor POOR example this character sets for children and impressionable dumb men everywhere.
Oh, and don't even let me get started on the way he balked at trying out for the team -- what a dumbass. You'll take the risk of having your body battered with serious injuries to impress your moron buddies, but you won't risk being rejected at a tryout? Lame!! That shit is WAY worse than porn, and Disney peddles it as a heart-warmer. DESPICABLE!! Let me tell you, I would never tolerate a littering vandal of a lunkhead for a boyfriend if he went so far as to risk life and limb playing tackle football with a bunch of angry, repressed, unemployed, bitter and resentful fartknockers in Philadelphia. I'd totally break up with him (but not the way his wife did, just because he got fired and stuff). And I totally wouldn't write that mean note to him, but at the point where he wouldn't try out for the team? I'd have pinned him to the wall, gotten in his face, and started hissing, "listen here you stupid shithead; if you like football enough to risk hurting yourself when we don't have insurance, you better like it enough to get your pussy ass down there and TRY OUT, you senseless intolerable nitwit! And if you don't go and I ever hear you touched a football again with your buddies I'm going to throw your shit into the street, piss all over it, and change the locks on the doors!" Yeah, that's the way you handle that!! Too bad doing that might be construed as littering and vandalism, but I'd have had damn good REASON, see?
Anyway, it was an okay movie. We enjoyed it.
Confession: I totally didn't get why they named the movie "Invincible" until the moment I typed it in this blog entry. NOW look who's the stupid lunkhead, right?
I doubt we'd have even finished watching the game if it weren't for being in the chatroom and talking about it (and other things) with a few voyeurs. Prince was fantastic at half-time, and so daringly gender-defiant with his Aunt Jemima do-rag; we were thrilled by his performance and talent, as usual. It's about time they picked someone suitable for the halftime performance. I loved that the only thing naughty about it was that lovely phallic silhouette of his guitar jutting away from his shadow-body.
After the game I spent a lot of time on the phone with Ron and my wanker (not at the same time), and also had a couple of long phone calls today. It's unusual for me to spend so much time on the phone, but they were all good chats so it was worth it. FYI voyeurs: the reason the audio on WebWhoreHQ Cam went on and off today and last night was because of those phone conversations and the need to keep some topics of discussion private. Sorry about that.
I have been *dying* to see Dreamgirls so tonight we watched it before it slipped out of our local theatre. I honestly despised most of the movie and could barely WAIT for it to be over because I cannot stand musicals.
You're probably wondering why in the world I wanted to see it so much then; how about because I totally didn't realize it was a musical? It's true . . . totally true. I didn't read anything about it so I didn't know it was based on a show nor did I stop to consider after seeing the preview that it might be a musical. Of course I knew there would be music and performances in it, just not that they'd be using songs as dialogue. All I saw in the preview was BEYONCE. That's it. She's the whole reason I wanted to see it so much. Since then of course I've noticed headlines about this Jennifer Hudson chick stealing the show and awards being won, blah blah blah. But I didn't care to read the whole story on it because I just wanted to see/hear BEYONCE.
Painful as it was to endure the entire long-ass movie, it was actually worth it to hear THREE of the songs. Actually, it would have been worth it for just that one heart-wrenching "And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going" gut-grinding performance of Jennifer Hudson's. Okay, and it was also splendid seeing Beyonce's tits and ass presented in different garments; I was particularly fond of seeing her boobs in those sling-like contraptions at the end.
FYI: I haven't responded to any emails in a good long while unless they were about technical problems, but I'm going to try to get a jump on those tomorrow. Realistically I doubt I'll be able to properly respond to more than a handful of them, though, since the most pressing ones require action of some kind or another.
Cams: I'm ready to strangle, kill, and mutilate the idiots who foisted substandard resource-sucking spycam software upon us months ago and haven't bothered to fix any of the problems in spite of my repeated nagging. Apparently today all but one of our cams were down and I had no idea because all of the thumbnail previews were still up and because the thumbnails don't refresh/show an accurate preview I wouldn't have known unless I clicked on them that they were actually not broadcasting. PERFECT. Anyway, thank you to Vette for emailing me to let me know about the problem.
Chat: I am going to schedule chat sessions for Tuesday evening, Wednesday morning, and Thursday afternoon plus my shows will be back to normal on Friday and Saturday. As soon as we get back from a walk I'll post the times on the spycam site's schedule.
I had to spend a couple of hours getting my hair colored this morning so it feels like I haven't been home much, and certainly haven't gotten any "work" done at the computer (lots of emails stacking up, I confess).
We did manage to waste a lot of time last night catching up on those American Idol auditions -- I *hate* watching those mean-spirited things, and hate myself FOR watching them, and hate people in general for guffawing at poor unfortunates, and hate myself for being duped into thinking that any of it is for real, and hate myself for guffawing along with the rest of America. HATE it.
It was strange to see the Seattle Idol auditions and recognize some of the people. Not in a specific way, but just a general way, like the sweet girl in the pink fishnet from Snohomish and the Bothell beatbox boy's dad -- those are the kinds of people I grew up with. Oh, I grew up around pretty people, too, but the people who really felt like locals -- the people who really belonged to the town in the same way generations of my family belonged to it -- those people (my people) are kind of hicks. It's shocking to realize how different we look from other people in this country, people from urban areas (the people we see on television most often). It's shocking to see how much more we resemble Appalachian hillbillies than, say, New Yorkers. The jolt of seeing our kind-mannered ugliness on television shocked me into realizing how hidden we usually are, we poor, white, unfashionable folk.
The culture and identity of my state seems so washed-out and unidentifiable to most people, but the older I get the more finely-tuned I've become to the small towns and city (Tacoma) where I've lived; they have made me into a certain person that other places couldn't have created. I am from "The West", and it's a real place not just some watered-down amalgam of other places or some expensive place to live that just appeared out of thin air when Microsoft, Pearl Jam, and Starbucks put us on the map. I am oddly proud to have grown up in a town with enough personality, poverty and pathos that people still have sex with farm animals.
Oh, and I should mention that I don't recognize Taylor Hicks AT ALL as one of my kind, despite the way his name sounds; he is a moron who didn't even know the words to "Country Roads" (among other things) and that sickens me to the core. Sex with farm animals also sickens me to the core, but not as much. I just felt like making sure you know that I don't ENDORSE such bestial acts, nor do I ENDORSE Taylor Hicks. Both Taylor Hicks and bestiality should be avoided. Unless this provides him the release he needs, sparing some poor woman from being soul patrolled.
So far my favorites during the auditions are the Indian brother and sister and the girl who sang "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" (retch!) and reminded me of Inara. Of course I'll be rooting hardest for the human beatbox from Bothell - I hope he makes it.
I really should take a nap before we go pick our van (a simple loose connection with the ignition, but also holes in the radiator) and run errands.
If any of you voyeurs saw me looking flushed while I slouched in my chair and/or heard the sound of buzzing and wondered what I might have been watching while I masturbated with my magic wand, it was a video of Tucker jacking off that I was editing for his update tonight.
Then again, you probably didn't see or hear it because it only lasted for about four minutes and I didn't take off any clothes or start moaning or anything. Wand over pants watching cockstroking = quick orgasm for Trixie.
When we started watching the Seahawks vs. Bears football game this morning I honestly didn't think we'd be watching long, assuming Chicago would take an early and pronounced lead and we'd just turn off the rest of a boring game. If you watched it, though, you know it didn't turn out that way. It was an entertaining waste of time and I thoroughly enjoyed it.
Watching Matt Hasselbeck (Seattle's quarterback aka "the guy who throws the ball", I should tell you, since this isn't a sports blog) doubled over in pain from his broken fingers while he kept on playing made me wonder how people would respond if I as a webwhore/camgirl, for instance, did a masturbation show with broken fingers and kept wincing in pain, and then had an announcer reminding everyone in the viewing audience of all of the injuries I'd suffered while doing explicit sex shows and masturbation.
Trixie's back today and it looks like she's still favoring her right ankle; no one really knew last month that she sprained that ankle when she twisted it wearing five inch fetish heels because she kept her game face on and kept doing her show but wound up having to stay off her feet and on her back for the past three weeks to give that time to mend, really REDUCING her versatility on the playing field. She looks to be in fine form tonight, though, with no traces of that rectal tear giving her any problem, but I wouldn't be surprised if we saw that ripped asshole FLARE UP in the second half.
Wouldn't the anti-porn, anti-whore people be mortified? And wouldn't they be even MORE mortified if a whore suffered those kinds of injuries and actually got paid as much as a pro football player?
Yeah, that's what I thought. You know what I'm talking about.
DIVERSIONS Tucker hooked up our television antenna today so we could watch the Superbowl (and so I could supply myself with new and disgusting bits of pop culture to mortify, shock and offend my own old-fashioned ideals). What the fuck is up with that disgusting Jessica Simpson Pizza Slut popper commercial where she suggestively "pops" the adolescent boy? What the fuck!?! Would they make a commercial like that featuring an adult male "popping" a twelve year old girl? It really got me in a lather.
The hypocrisy in our culture sickens me; it's totally okay when a mainstream corporation colludes with broadcasters to air sexually suggestive advertisements on a Sunday afternoon depicting pedo relationships between goody-two-shoes Republican whores and little boys, but the FBI and Department of Justice censor, destroy and criminalize businesses that clearly label the same fantasies (even presented only in text format) as pornography. Every time I turn on the television I am bombarded with whores of all types peddling their wares and exposed to all kinds of pornography, and yet it's only the honest whores and smut peddlers like myself who call a spade a spade who are considered criminals.
I felt a little guilty watching football today and couldn't stop thinking about what Noam Chomsky says about sports. That they are served up to us to fill our heads with irrelevant bullshit and divert our attention from absorbing and processing news and information that really MATTER in life-altering ways. I also can't help wondering how these whores on the field, these men who are destroying their bodies doing nothing of more (or even equal) genuine import than a janitor or a garbage man or a paralegal or a streetwalker does -- these athletes are presented to us as virtuous noblemen, celebrities (people to be "celebrated"), patriots, heroes, icons, and role models. Some of these men do not even choose (or know how) to put their baseball caps on straight!! But we've all helped create (or consented to the creation of) this $213 billion sports industry elevating these completely inane games to epic proportions.
Think about it: the sports industry is worth "far more than twice the size of the U.S. auto industry and seven times the size of the movie industry." Just the sports INJURY industry alone is worth over ten billion dollars!!! We pay to watch them get hurt, and then the doctors get paid to fix them. Go go gladiators!! Tell me again how prostitution is illegal for the protection of women. If we're so concerned about people's bodies, why are sports legal if they result in these kinds of injuries? If we can mass-consume sports injuries (and yes, I love watching a man writhing in pain on the field or punch-drunk in the boxing ring) and heroize the players for taking the battering ram like men, it seems like we could legalize prostitution (which would only make it SAFER for us). The obvious answer is that we really don't give a flying FUCK about women's bodies OR men's bodies; when it comes to good clean sportin' entertainment and fuel for our SUV's we're more than happy to let the body parts fall where they may. We keep prostitution illegal because we'd rather see scores of whores killed than actually allow that women should be able to safely charge access fees to their bodies and be protected in doing so the way any other low skill capitalist athlete is allowed to do. It's so funny the way sports programs are seen as brilliant opportunities for underprivileged youth and how the boys who make it out of the ghetto to go onto BIG SPORTS INJURIES (or exciting military careers and possible death!) are jolly success stories; I'm not suggesting after-school streetwalking programs, but there's definitely a weird double standard.
I don't like agreeing with theories that say we're a bunch of mind-numbed pawns in some enormous brainwashing conspiracy, but when I look at those statistics that say that even the STORIES we want to be told on film are of less importance than sports I have to agree that the powers that be are undoubtedly very VERY happy we are so busy consuming, both financially and intellectually, these ridiculously trivial GAMES.
Another thing that gets my goat is the culture theft. The way that the football people can buy off Dr. Seuss' money-grubbing traitorous widow into letting them turn one of his stories into a pro-Super Bowl poem read by fucking Harrison Ford, but they won't let bars advertise "Super Bowl" parties because the NFL doesn't want to tarnish their image (or let anyone capitalize off of their game who doesn't PAY for the privilege of uttering the sanctified game name). Seriously, the NFL has sent people cease and desist letters for violating their copyright (thanks Doc Holly for the tip on that).
It INFURIATES me when corporations infiltrate our lives and weave themselves into the thread of our culture and then try to govern and control and profit off of every single mention of their precious fucking names. Either you want to be embraced by society or you don't. Either you want free advertising or you don't. We shouldn't have to PAY you a licensing fee for barging into our lives and making us like you, even if we then make money off of the way you've foisted yourselves into our homes and businesses.
Speaking of culture theft, if you care about this issue at all or are simply curious, check out WillfulInfringement.com.
On a more personal level, I resent seeing athletes portrayed as noble heroes and role models when they are just well paid whores who get the best surgeries possible when their pimps push them to blow out their knees, rip their groins, and dislocate their limbs. It's not that I resent the athletes themselves or that I am "jealous" of them or that I don't think they deserve good treatment, I just think it's really "funny" that real whores aren't allowed even a trifling of that kind of respect and we're really doing extremely similar jobs, we whores and athletes. In truth, the athletes are the ones who are participating in a much more evil scheme that doesn't even bother to meet any basic needs the way prostitutes do (and if you listen to Noam Chomsky, sports actually suppresses our drive and ability to take care of ourselves and act human because it's not participatory; we're only passively WATCHING the competition rather than engaging in it).
I hate demonizing an entire industry and everyone in it -- I really am NOT trying to say that I want athletes to be paid less. I am NOT trying to say that I think Paul Allen is part of a plot to make all of us stupid sports-watching zombies via his ownership of the Seahawks. I'm not trying to say that. I'm just saying that if the sports industry can have all of that, why can't sex workers and pornographers have ANYTHING? And if mainstream media can shove violence and sex down everyone's throats on television to sell everything from pesticides to war to hormone-riddled milk to burgers made of cow eyeballs to gas-guzzling suburban tanks to alcohol, why can't I sell my own motherfucking body if I want to? I don't understand how all the sweet Mommies in our country think *I* am the enemy and thief of their children's innocence with my porn website, but twelve beer commercials (plus more subtle advertisements like their Daddy drinking and driving the family home from the stadium) during a football game are a matter of American pride. Again, it's not exactly that I think all alcohol commercials should be pulled (and it's certainly not that I think pornography should be advertised during a football game). I'm just sick of the scapegoating and the overall stupidity.
But hey, I'm part of it too. I drank beer, I ate chips, and I wasted about five hours waiting for "my" team to lose. And I felt angry at the referees and full of certainty that they were against "us". And I understand how that is so much easier for a country to swallow than thinking about the bad calls our "president" has made and how he and his cronies are buttfucking almost all of us as hard as they can.
I don't like to forget about blogs I've enjoyed that retain good old content and memories, so I've maintained a linklist in my sidebar for old mutes and rarely updated blogs, but I need to free up that space, especially since I think it's only there to comfort me. Instead I'll link to those folks here (if the links are dead, you can always search for them using The Wayback Machine):
There are so many blogs not on this roll I wish I could remember . . . Centerfold Librarian, ummm. . . shit, I can't remember all of the others! So this list will also become a list of blog casualties because I can't stand to let their memories leak out of my head.
I'm a packrat, I'll admit it. To the point where it bothers me when OTHER people don't save things I would save if they were mine.
It SLAYS me when people burn old letters, throw away diaries, or, on the internet, delete their blogs. Fine, don't update it anymore but don't take it away!! Don't destroy it -- that's HISTORY, and you're killing it!
Anyway, if any of you have moved to another domain or begin posting again on a regular basis, just leave comments and I'll move you back to the sidebar (as long as you're posting more than once a month)!
Full Gallery appearing in my Members-Only area with Monday 11/8 update. JOIN NOW for access to ALL of my pics (full size) & vids!
Actually I guess it's hard to see those long, soft, downy brown hairs that adorn my asscrack unless you actually join my site for the high-res views.
Part of me feels compelled to stop publishing explicit nudes (like the one above) in free areas of my websites. But MOST of me feels compelled to keep it out there, mostly because I DO NOT THINK IT IS OBSCENE or damaging for anyone to see it. If you're a long time reader you may remember that I have very little concern for respecting people's "work safe" boundaries because if it's okay for an employee to be wasting time reading blogs, it should be okay to see my hairy fucking crack (my point being that it's WASTING TIME at work that should be the issue, not HOW you're wasting it).
Another reason I resist posting only censored or non-nude stuff in my free areas is that when I look at one picture at a time, I don't necessarily see them as pornographic. Even that picture of the guy licking his own cockhead. Frankly, they all have more redeeming and artistic value than most of the images I see in mainstream media.
Don't get me wrong, I do not have an entirely liberal view of what should be broadcast on tv and on the airwaves. I actually have very conservative standards for what should be seen and heard on tv: I for one thought the WHOLE infamous Janet Jackson superbowl display was obscenely inappropriate and the nipple expose was just the frosting on the inappropriate cake. There are standards on television that we have grown up with and they deliberately chose to flout those standards. It's not that I think the sight of a bare breast is "damaging" to children (or anybody); I don't. The preceding Kid Rock song was inappropriate and I just think it's unacceptable for people to choreograph a dance with a theme of sexual victimization and forced exposure, then bare a breast, all with the knowledge of a) the accepted standards on television which do not permit nudity, and b) the mid-day family audience viewing the superbowl. My problem is not with breasts, it's with the flagrant disregard for accepted standards and the audience of families. It wasn't just a titty, it was the context and the WAY it was exposed (ripping off her clothes in a rape-like scenario).
The other day we watched the third season finale of Alias (warning: spoiler ahead). I've enjoyed the show a ton in spite of the fact that almost all of the women in the series play the role of the stereotypical deceptive, traitorous, duplicitous Eve but with this finale, I fucking lost it. Vaughan, the male love interest and one of the main protagonists in the series, is advised by Jack (another prominent male protagonist) to KILL HIS WIFE to "get closure" after it turns out she's a double agent for the bad guys. Vaughan takes Jack's advise, hunts down his wife, hangs her by her wrists in a warehouse where she begs, cries, and pleads for her life, while he details his plans to "erase" her with hydrochloric acid.
This is a show on network television, okay? I think they have it rated PG-14 or some wacky tv thing like that. There are a lot of things on the show I object to (the characterization of women, the preoccupation with marital fidelity/monogamy, etc.) and it's EXCESSIVELY violent (a torture scene in practically every episode) but hey, I've enjoyed the hell out of it anyway but this just took it WAY too far. For me, the episode I'm talking about above was more offensive to me than porn, even humiliation porn. If it's okay for a 14 year old to watch that scene, frankly I don't know how anyone can bitch about the same kid seeing a plumbing shot on the web.
I guess what it boils down to is that I recognize there are (and should be) different standards for television and the internet, as there are different standards for mainstream entertainment and porn. There are different expectations for what you will encounter, there are different levels of belief and disbelief that viewers or surfers bring to the experience, and there are different tools for tailoring your experience to your own comfort level. What *I* see is that television and radio trespass on people's expectations and mow over standards of decency much more often than the internet does. Maybe I'm getting too abstract for anyone to follow me now and too tired to make a persuasive argument for my opinions so I'll just leave it at that; my opinion is that my and my boyfriend's naked bods on the internet are appropriate as presented, while much of what I see in mainstream media is dangerously INappropriate. That reminds me, did anyone see that Dianne Sawyer (sp) special on women in prison??? Talk about pornography!!! Talk about exploitation!!! Sheesh!! Oh, I did love every minute of it, but as long as a little warning after the commercial break about "graphic language ahead" is sufficient on television (which does NOTHING to warn people who are channel surfing), then I think my sites' warnings are sufficient (although I'll soon be labelling all of them to insure people using filters will never see them if they don't want to).
Again, maybe my problem is just that I am too old (see Justin Timberlake entry from earlier today) and am applying my old-fashioned standards to the media. Not sure.