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Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Oh, Google . . .
Oh, silly, silly Google. Thanks for trying, but no, I didn't type it wrong. I was looking for "sexy butches". Believe me, if I were looking for "sexy bitches", I'd have bigger problems than typos and bad spelling.
Also, since I'm on the topic of random Internet searches (reason: it is 5:00 a.m. and I cannot sleep, hence the random Internet searches and sexy, psuedo-pornish netsurfing), this has got to be the most depressing thing ever. Okay, so nobody I know is using the phrase "guys with pies" to refer to transmen, except for Dan Savage. That's okay; for some reason, it never caught on like "chicks with dicks", despite its poetic rhyme (maybe because nobody, male or female, has ever referred to their own vagina as "pie"?). And yet, if I Google "guys with pies" and get in the top results a website telling me "WARNING! This website contains graphic images of a controversial nature.", you know what I'm going to think. The drool is already on the keyboard. I'm racking my brain wondering how I managed to miss out on an FtM porn site. And then- click!- and it's all a horrible joke. It's just . . . . guys . . . with pies. And they're not even naked and smeared with chocolate cream filling. Not funny, Huffington Post, not by a long shot. Nobody's laughing here!
Okay. Really must go to bed now.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
First You Apply Suction To The Pussy . . .
No, it's not what it sounds like. I just like deliciously deviant and misleading titles. This ain't a review of some ill-schemed clitoral pump, thank goodness.
It may be worse.
We, um, vacuumed the cat. And by "we", I mean my father. By "cat" I mean our household feline and resident shedding creature Butterscotch. And by "vacuum", well, it means exactly what it says.
It all started when I was petting the cat, fur was floating everywhere, I was admonished to stop making such a mess, and I innocently wondered aloud "Wouldn't it be great if we could vacuum the cat?".
Next thing you know, we've got out the little mini-vac with its attached hose, my dad is nursing scratch-and-bite wounds, and the cat is clinging fearfully to the door.
On the second pass, during which we tried to better acclimate the cat to the sound and feel of the vacuum, she gets a little more relaxed, or at least gives up thoughts of fleeing, and just sits there, irritated, getting vacuumed. Near the end, we even manage to find one of her "spots" near her neck and she is actually loving and leaning into the vacuum.
In the end, I actually think we got a lot of her loose and shedding hair, which is a blessing what with our dark carpets and all. This is a mostly meaningless blog . . . I just wrote it because I can't believe we vacuumed the cat.
It may be worse.
We, um, vacuumed the cat. And by "we", I mean my father. By "cat" I mean our household feline and resident shedding creature Butterscotch. And by "vacuum", well, it means exactly what it says.
It all started when I was petting the cat, fur was floating everywhere, I was admonished to stop making such a mess, and I innocently wondered aloud "Wouldn't it be great if we could vacuum the cat?".
Next thing you know, we've got out the little mini-vac with its attached hose, my dad is nursing scratch-and-bite wounds, and the cat is clinging fearfully to the door.
On the second pass, during which we tried to better acclimate the cat to the sound and feel of the vacuum, she gets a little more relaxed, or at least gives up thoughts of fleeing, and just sits there, irritated, getting vacuumed. Near the end, we even manage to find one of her "spots" near her neck and she is actually loving and leaning into the vacuum.
In the end, I actually think we got a lot of her loose and shedding hair, which is a blessing what with our dark carpets and all. This is a mostly meaningless blog . . . I just wrote it because I can't believe we vacuumed the cat.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Unfairly Villainized? (Or: My Most Controversial Blog Ever)
This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.Wednesday, May 14, 2008
I'm So Excited! (And I Just Can't Hide It!)
Yes, and I may just lose control. What's making me so crazy? Here are a list of things I'm looking forward to:
1) Japan
Right now I've got the possibility to return for a month to Japan to do a TESOL program at the same university I was at last semester. Getting to see old friends, be back in Japan . . . I'm crossing my fingers. I find out Friday- wish me luck!
2) No Fauxxx Roulette
Okay, so I can't find any information on this supposedly up-coming debut full-length feature porn film from artistic pansexual and genderqueer erotic site No Fauxxx, except for tantalizing teases of my fave pornstar Jiz Lee saying she'll be in it, or Myspace bulletin board pleas for bands interested in a musical benefit to raise funds for the movie. And yet I know that the fanastic Ms. Trouble Royalle is busy working on it, and I'm thrilled, particularly because the site has tantalizing pictures, but only a handful of frustratingly short videos hinting at how talented she might be with some real professional equipment. Oh, when, oh, when will it come out?
3) Champion: The Movie
I'm enamored with Pink & White's Crash Pad Series, everyone knows it. But I still miss the days when they were coming out with feature films, and luckily those days aren't over- because they have a new movie coming out, starring all of my favorite familiar faces (Jiz, Shawn, Dallas, Javier), and what's more, what looks to be a killer plot that'd even give "Million Dollar Baby" a run for it's money (if, you know, "Million Dollar Baby" had no Clint Eastwood and tons of hot queer sex instead). Champion: The Movie looks to be fantastic!
4) Tranny McGuyver: The Movie!
Ever since I first Youtube searched Willam Belli (and take care, folks, that's will-uhm bell-eye) in search of other works by the gorgeous and talented individual who played Nip/Tuck's Cherry Peck and inadvertently found this short, hilarious clip about a tranny cop, I'd been left wanting more. Well, it's here! Though it hasn't been picked up as a great new show (please, they leave Reno 911! on but nobody wants Tranny McGuyver?), the new film should be making the rounds soon. And until then, you can satisfy yourself like I have with the film's trailer.
5) The New No Doubt CD
I wasn't heart-broken when No Doubt disbanded and Gwen Stefani went solo- I was excited, particularly when her first CD delivered with great songs that I still love. Then I deflated somewhat with her second CD's mediocre songs, hip-hop attitude (sorry, Gwen, I love ya, but I'm not sure you've got the street cred to back it up . . .), and treating her Japanese backup dancers like figments of her imagination, even in interviews (wtf?). But I'm glad to see the band getting back together, and hopefully finding an even sound between Gwen's somewhat more, ahem, exuberant style lately, and their old punk and ska roots, with some of their later hip-hop and Jamaican flavor thrown in. And maybe slightly more meaningful lyrics than "If I was a rich girl, I'd have all the money in the world". Oooh, I can't wait!
6) Trannywood Pictures' next film "Couch Surfers 2". Actually, I'm more excited at the prospect of their next next film "Trannywood Gone Wild", but that's definitely not going to be for a while (sigh). Ah, either way, I'm just glad that these talents guys have so many projects lined up, so I've always got something to look forward to!
And of course there will probably be new things for me to look forward to (thank goodness!), but those are the ones that have me daydreaming about their respective release dates . . . .
1) Japan
Right now I've got the possibility to return for a month to Japan to do a TESOL program at the same university I was at last semester. Getting to see old friends, be back in Japan . . . I'm crossing my fingers. I find out Friday- wish me luck!
2) No Fauxxx Roulette
Okay, so I can't find any information on this supposedly up-coming debut full-length feature porn film from artistic pansexual and genderqueer erotic site No Fauxxx, except for tantalizing teases of my fave pornstar Jiz Lee saying she'll be in it, or Myspace bulletin board pleas for bands interested in a musical benefit to raise funds for the movie. And yet I know that the fanastic Ms. Trouble Royalle is busy working on it, and I'm thrilled, particularly because the site has tantalizing pictures, but only a handful of frustratingly short videos hinting at how talented she might be with some real professional equipment. Oh, when, oh, when will it come out?
3) Champion: The Movie
I'm enamored with Pink & White's Crash Pad Series, everyone knows it. But I still miss the days when they were coming out with feature films, and luckily those days aren't over- because they have a new movie coming out, starring all of my favorite familiar faces (Jiz, Shawn, Dallas, Javier), and what's more, what looks to be a killer plot that'd even give "Million Dollar Baby" a run for it's money (if, you know, "Million Dollar Baby" had no Clint Eastwood and tons of hot queer sex instead). Champion: The Movie looks to be fantastic!
4) Tranny McGuyver: The Movie!
Ever since I first Youtube searched Willam Belli (and take care, folks, that's will-uhm bell-eye) in search of other works by the gorgeous and talented individual who played Nip/Tuck's Cherry Peck and inadvertently found this short, hilarious clip about a tranny cop, I'd been left wanting more. Well, it's here! Though it hasn't been picked up as a great new show (please, they leave Reno 911! on but nobody wants Tranny McGuyver?), the new film should be making the rounds soon. And until then, you can satisfy yourself like I have with the film's trailer.
5) The New No Doubt CD
I wasn't heart-broken when No Doubt disbanded and Gwen Stefani went solo- I was excited, particularly when her first CD delivered with great songs that I still love. Then I deflated somewhat with her second CD's mediocre songs, hip-hop attitude (sorry, Gwen, I love ya, but I'm not sure you've got the street cred to back it up . . .), and treating her Japanese backup dancers like figments of her imagination, even in interviews (wtf?). But I'm glad to see the band getting back together, and hopefully finding an even sound between Gwen's somewhat more, ahem, exuberant style lately, and their old punk and ska roots, with some of their later hip-hop and Jamaican flavor thrown in. And maybe slightly more meaningful lyrics than "If I was a rich girl, I'd have all the money in the world". Oooh, I can't wait!
6) Trannywood Pictures' next film "Couch Surfers 2". Actually, I'm more excited at the prospect of their next next film "Trannywood Gone Wild", but that's definitely not going to be for a while (sigh). Ah, either way, I'm just glad that these talents guys have so many projects lined up, so I've always got something to look forward to!
And of course there will probably be new things for me to look forward to (thank goodness!), but those are the ones that have me daydreaming about their respective release dates . . . .
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Hi, Are You Flirting With Me?
Hey, a personal blog! Read more about my flirting- or lack thereof- by clicking the link below.
I spent the night before last enjoying a late-night buffalo-wing and blue cheese chowdown and let's-reminisce-about-old-times-and-affirm-our-friendship rendezvous with my best friend at Denny's. It was nice; lately our friendship has been floundering, for a variety of reasons, and the midnight snack felt like old times again- wandering memory lane through high school before it ever felt like our lives would diverge down different paths, commiserating about our weight, failed exercise regimens, and how a basket each of buffalo wings certainly doesn't help, and, eventually, like all our good conversations do, turning towards relationships and our romantic woes.
This time, though, there seemed to finally be something more than just abstract hypotheticals to the chatter, and I unfortunately was quite unprepared for it. You see, there was a deliciously appealing Denny's hostess. Sitting in my booth, I had the perfect view of her over my friend's shoulder. I actually at first thought she was a boy- she had that wonderful sort of androgyny that you can't call butchness, because it simply isn't butch, but more like fay, elvish beauty that doesn't require makeup or other feminine accoutrements to manifest itself. Suffice to say, I stared and surreptitiously watched her the entire time, fascinated. I certainly didn't hide it, but I really didn't feel like I was being noticed in my watching, either.
But then, long after the check has been paid, our waitress has taken off, and we're simply wasting time, she comes by and stops at our table. There's an almost a palpable, uncomfortable silence as she stands there, and we finally look up- another strange silence, and she produces a rag and asks to clean up our table, if we'd just lift our glasses there, yes, thanks, guys, now your arms won't get all sticky. A slight laugh and very warm smile. Then she trots off- having cleaned not a single other table, and apparently not having taken over any sort of bussing or cleaning duties.
Maybe I'm reading too much into it. Maybe it was late and slow (it had to be approaching 1 o'clock in the morning) and she had nothing better to do. Maybe she really was concerned with making our table cleaner; quite honestly it was rather sticky from the cherry coke syrup. But then we go to leave, and just before we're out the door, she catches sight of us and calls out an almost frantic "Bye, guys, thanks!" with a finger-curling wave of her hand. Maybe I'm reading too much into it. Or maybe she noticed me noticing her and took the initiative to get a little closer; do a little flirting.
And that, right there, is my problem.
I don't know how to flirt. I don't know how to recognize it. Somehow, in all the hulabaloo of high school's education on proper social conduct for young boys and girls, I was off reading, practicing Wicca, and focusing far too hard on my school studies. It wasn't that I didn't want a boyfriend . . . but my dreams roughly involved being pursued by a dedicated suitor, without any work on my part but to blush and maybe play hard to get, or forming a casual male friendship that would eventually lead to a hesitant kiss over the homework we were doing together in my room, which would transform into a highschool-sweetheart relationship that would finally end in marriage. I simply didn't want to expend any effort, to tell the truth, and what's more, I did not want to have to become one of "those girls".
"Those girls" being, of course, pretty much any girl who put thought into her appearance in the hopes of impressing the boys. I hated- and still pretty much do hate- the courtship dance that men and women do. I didn't want to have to flirt and preen and be silly and stupid. Every girl who seemed adept at it also seemed to be the exact opposite of the person I wanted to become, the person that I was. And it wasn't just about the masculine-feminine divide, because the lesbian butch-femme dance, that twirling trade off opposing energies, is beautiful and alluring to me. Perhaps it's simply the sheer normalcy and the taking for granted that it's the way it's supposed to be. Maybe I buck and rebelled at the heteronormativity that put me in place of the preening female to the aggressive male, that oppressive model. I've always wanted to be different, after all.
But the point is that I've missed out on this crucial skill. I'm sure I could probably muster up some flirty behavior if pressed, but when it comes to recognizing it when it's directed at me . . . I suck. Is it just being friendly, or is it more? I couldn't tell you at all. And while I know people struggle with reading the signs all the time, I just feel much more helpless than anyone else.
Besides, how do you flirt with a hostess at Denny's? She's not even a waitress who occasionally can be flagged down to ask for extra and unnecessary napkins. What ought I have done? I certainly would have liked to see my friend's face if I tried to flirt with a girl (this being the same friend who has never mentioned my bisexuality since I told her about it, and continues to talk about relationships in straight terms only) right in front of her.
All I know is that the event impressed itself upon me, enough to want to write a blog about it. I obviously need flirting lessons.
I wonder, though . . . I do want to go back to Denny's in the hopes of seeing her again.
I spent the night before last enjoying a late-night buffalo-wing and blue cheese chowdown and let's-reminisce-about-old-times-and-affirm-our-friendship rendezvous with my best friend at Denny's. It was nice; lately our friendship has been floundering, for a variety of reasons, and the midnight snack felt like old times again- wandering memory lane through high school before it ever felt like our lives would diverge down different paths, commiserating about our weight, failed exercise regimens, and how a basket each of buffalo wings certainly doesn't help, and, eventually, like all our good conversations do, turning towards relationships and our romantic woes.
This time, though, there seemed to finally be something more than just abstract hypotheticals to the chatter, and I unfortunately was quite unprepared for it. You see, there was a deliciously appealing Denny's hostess. Sitting in my booth, I had the perfect view of her over my friend's shoulder. I actually at first thought she was a boy- she had that wonderful sort of androgyny that you can't call butchness, because it simply isn't butch, but more like fay, elvish beauty that doesn't require makeup or other feminine accoutrements to manifest itself. Suffice to say, I stared and surreptitiously watched her the entire time, fascinated. I certainly didn't hide it, but I really didn't feel like I was being noticed in my watching, either.
But then, long after the check has been paid, our waitress has taken off, and we're simply wasting time, she comes by and stops at our table. There's an almost a palpable, uncomfortable silence as she stands there, and we finally look up- another strange silence, and she produces a rag and asks to clean up our table, if we'd just lift our glasses there, yes, thanks, guys, now your arms won't get all sticky. A slight laugh and very warm smile. Then she trots off- having cleaned not a single other table, and apparently not having taken over any sort of bussing or cleaning duties.
Maybe I'm reading too much into it. Maybe it was late and slow (it had to be approaching 1 o'clock in the morning) and she had nothing better to do. Maybe she really was concerned with making our table cleaner; quite honestly it was rather sticky from the cherry coke syrup. But then we go to leave, and just before we're out the door, she catches sight of us and calls out an almost frantic "Bye, guys, thanks!" with a finger-curling wave of her hand. Maybe I'm reading too much into it. Or maybe she noticed me noticing her and took the initiative to get a little closer; do a little flirting.
And that, right there, is my problem.
I don't know how to flirt. I don't know how to recognize it. Somehow, in all the hulabaloo of high school's education on proper social conduct for young boys and girls, I was off reading, practicing Wicca, and focusing far too hard on my school studies. It wasn't that I didn't want a boyfriend . . . but my dreams roughly involved being pursued by a dedicated suitor, without any work on my part but to blush and maybe play hard to get, or forming a casual male friendship that would eventually lead to a hesitant kiss over the homework we were doing together in my room, which would transform into a highschool-sweetheart relationship that would finally end in marriage. I simply didn't want to expend any effort, to tell the truth, and what's more, I did not want to have to become one of "those girls".
"Those girls" being, of course, pretty much any girl who put thought into her appearance in the hopes of impressing the boys. I hated- and still pretty much do hate- the courtship dance that men and women do. I didn't want to have to flirt and preen and be silly and stupid. Every girl who seemed adept at it also seemed to be the exact opposite of the person I wanted to become, the person that I was. And it wasn't just about the masculine-feminine divide, because the lesbian butch-femme dance, that twirling trade off opposing energies, is beautiful and alluring to me. Perhaps it's simply the sheer normalcy and the taking for granted that it's the way it's supposed to be. Maybe I buck and rebelled at the heteronormativity that put me in place of the preening female to the aggressive male, that oppressive model. I've always wanted to be different, after all.
But the point is that I've missed out on this crucial skill. I'm sure I could probably muster up some flirty behavior if pressed, but when it comes to recognizing it when it's directed at me . . . I suck. Is it just being friendly, or is it more? I couldn't tell you at all. And while I know people struggle with reading the signs all the time, I just feel much more helpless than anyone else.
Besides, how do you flirt with a hostess at Denny's? She's not even a waitress who occasionally can be flagged down to ask for extra and unnecessary napkins. What ought I have done? I certainly would have liked to see my friend's face if I tried to flirt with a girl (this being the same friend who has never mentioned my bisexuality since I told her about it, and continues to talk about relationships in straight terms only) right in front of her.
All I know is that the event impressed itself upon me, enough to want to write a blog about it. I obviously need flirting lessons.
I wonder, though . . . I do want to go back to Denny's in the hopes of seeing her again.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Friday, May 2, 2008
There's Something About Her Toothy . . . Smile
Is it weird that I kind of find that age-old idea of "vagina dentata" hot? I mean, there's pussy power, and then there's pussy power where that thing can bite. Somehow it seems fun to throw the concept in boys' faces- make them shudder. And I know that I really shouldn't . . . I mean, a toothed vagina could chow down a lesbian lover's hand or your own fingers or destroy a good-quality sex toy just as much as it can a cock, and yet it still seems so wild, so primal, so good.
Well, guess what? Now there's a movie for it. And it actually looks to be pretty darn brilliant (though the previews paint it almost like a bad horror movie). I'm rather thrilled, too, that it stars John Hensley- a.k.a. Matt from "Nip/Tuck". Coolio.I can't give my impressions on it until I actually see the whole thing (and I sniff on the winds of the Internet claims of misandry and man-hating), but until now, I'm just excited that I have a new and challenging movie to look forward to . . . before someone tried to drag me to go see "Made Of Honor".
Enjoy the preview!
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Porn Lags Behind The Genderqueer Revolution
This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.
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