love, suki

30 Tough Cookies

2007-03-19T09:30:00.001-07:00

This morning, my son was telling me that his dad was acting "not nice" during his last visit. He said he called his mother "old," and then walked out of the room and slammed the door.

I told my son that his dad was in a bad mood because he had just turned thirty. That he wasn't really young anymore. And "when you're young and you don't like where you're at, you have the excuse that you're young. But when you reach a certain age, you don't have that excuse anymore and have to take responsibility, and that's..." I paused. I didn't know where to go from there.

And my kid finished my sentence for me: "That's just tough cookies, isn't it mommy?"

What a kid.

People Still Love Britney

2007-02-26T06:16:00.001-08:00

Yesterday I was having my Sunday afternoon beer, sitting next to some reasonably attractive 40-year-old men, one clean-cut, the other like a teddy bear. Clean-cut was looking at the paper, which had a picture of flabby-tummy, bald Britney.

Me: I like Britney now.

Teddy Bear: Crazy Britney?

Me: I guess. She has more character now.

Clean-cut: Yeah, I wanna fuck her now.

Teddy Bear: Me too. She was just a cliche before. Now I want to bang her in a cheap motel room with a bottle of Wild Turkey.

Clean-cut: No, with Rum and Peptol.

Now, you see, ladies. You don't need a huge head of hair and a flat tummy to be a hottie. You don't even need to seem sane. So just let it all hang out.

Big on Small Town News

2007-02-22T13:21:00.001-08:00

Sometimes I look at newspapers from around the country--not the big ones. Today I looked at the Lexington Clipper Herald (of Nebraska). One of the top news stories was that:

Lex and Cozad men inducted into Cattlemen's Hall of Fame:

My favorite quote from that was:
...Some people have gone so far to say Joe is a character, noted Chris Hagedone, Dawson County Cattlemens president...

My gawd! A character?

But if you want to really know what this place is about, check out this fine young man who won a wrestling championship:

Is the smile beatific or insane? What is he thinking?

I don't want you to think I'm making fun. I'm fascinated. This is a life completely different from mine, which, if you want to look at my local news, click here.

Fun with Corsets

2007-02-21T11:54:00.001-08:00

For Valentine's Day, I asked my boyfriend what he wanted me to get--for me to wear--white and satiny, red lace, black and leathery. And he said black and leathery. Although I was disappointed at first (I had hoped he would want more romantic than whore), I didn't say anything. After a few days I felt better about it and started hunting for something black and leathery I could afford. I can tell you, it wasn't much. Thigh-high black patent leather boots went for $80 at the porn shop near my house. And really, I wanted more "bang" for my buck.

So I went shopping online. A lot of the prices were similar. What I really wanted was a corset--the kind that lace up in the front and back. And my boobs are big, so it'd need to be cupless. But after looking at a few sites I found the price was around $120. Finally I googled "sexy shoes" and found snaz75.com. I found the $80 boots from my corner store for $40, and just looked at their corset page with little hope and found a red and black patent leather number for $40. I bought them both. The company expedited the shipping, and I got them in 4 business days.

Everything was the right size, in good shape, etc. The day came, and I wanted to just slip on the corset and zip it up when I saw him later--which left me to trying to fit the corset all by myself. I had to untie the back, pull the laces looser, try it on again, and then tighter, put it on again. I think I did that about 4 times before it fit right.

All of my effort paid off: I was really glad to have bought that black leathery stuff. We were both really turned on, and very sweaty--all that patent leather can do that. And I got to hear the words all women want to hear:
I've been looking for you all my life.

Thinking Too Hard About Girls Gone Wild.

2007-02-12T12:19:00.001-08:00

Almost every night, I watch some CSI reruns on Spike TV, and almost every morning I wake up to a snatch of very, very long commercial of "Girls Gone Wild" and I cringe a little before changing the channel.

And I'm not the kind of girl who cringes at these kinds of things--I've clocked in enough hours watching porn to have had favorite actresses, actors and directors. At one point, when I was 20, I tried to get my boyfriend (29) to be in a Dirty Debutante movie with me. (He wouldn't do it--and he was the one who got me into porn in the first place!) I even met the director and everything.

On the other hand, I did tell my present boyfriend that if I ever found one of those in his possession, I'd break up with him. Like that.

So, what is so wrong with GGW? Is it just because I'm getting older? mmmm, no.The boyfriend thought I was upset that these young, drunk chicks would be taken advantage of. I mulled that over, and that, while noble, is not it.

I look at the suzy-Q chics that they choose, and their giggly faces, and I can just tell that they are the kind of girls who were cheerleaders in high school, who teased but never did it (or pretended that they never did), who do not in a certain way, take the needs of others or their own boundaries very seriously. Example: If these 18-year-olds thought of the fat, hairy men who were wanking off to this stuff, they'd be grossed out.

Some people have accused me of never being a virgin. That isn't true of course. I was as big a fantasy-fangirl as you could find with a bad perm and large glasses with horn-rimmed frames. I liked unicorns and jingling purses. But after my first boyfriend or two...I guess I just kind of skipped over that sweet-sixteen stage somehow, and went straight to Sex-In-The-City. So maybe I just don't understand the GGW/tit-flashing gals.

Or maybe, I just like my smut...smutty.

Why the Heck I Haven't Been Writing

2007-02-06T09:34:00.001-08:00

Since 1/11, my boyfriend's sister-in-law died, leaving 2 kids in their early 20's, and one in his mid-teens. She had lung cancer, and I logged in a few hours on her deathbed, even though I had only met her briefly, twice. This roused a little argument with my boyfriend at first. He thought I didn't want to go to visit her in her last hours, just because it wouldn't be "fun." I was just uncomfortable at first because I didn't know her and she didn't know me and I thought it would be very...strange and uncomfortable for her and her kids if I came by. But soon I realized that he, being a smoker, needed me there. And so I went, weirdness be damned. The hospital room was darkened. TV was on, and the boyfriend's sister was taking care of all the details, forgetting where she left her pocketbook in the process.

I have run into this problem at times with boyfriends, especially if they don't move in with me soon enough: they think that because I like to have fun, that's what I want and expect all the time. It's not true. When it's time to have fun, I want to have as much as I can. When it's time for other things, I'm ready for all that too.

I've also been recovering from a visit to my parents' house. My mother's old age is not her mother's. My grandmother lived alone without animals in a nice city house, and did fun errands during the week and went shopping with my uncle on the weekends. She watched a lot of tv. This went on for about 25 years. Now she is having dementia, and still spends a lot of time in front of the tv. The difference between her old age, and my mother's, is that my mom spends her time driving between the South Shore and North Shore of Massachusetts, running back and forth, taking care of my aging dad (in the past 6 mo. diagnosed with diabetes, heart disease and skin cancer), and her mother. The whole thing makes me so depressed, I basically cry for a month after I come back from there.

I think, for a while, I forgot I had any of my 3 blogs, but I'm glad to be back.

The Tiny Population

2007-01-11T08:36:00.001-08:00

At my work email box, I received one with the subject line: Why so small weenie? [sic]
And it went like this:

Greet man

I don't care why your meat is so small, but 70% of women do.
They are pretty sure that bigger member will make their desire
stronger. You have the chance to change your life.

Here http://xzslhg.com you can get the thing.

It will help you for sure.
The remedy can be sent worldwide.
If you wont be satisfied - we will return all you money.
No bullshit.

In a way, I feel bad for men. They have a lot of their ego put into something that may or may not work. Or only works when the chemistry is right. Later on in life, they are pretty sure it will stop working most of the time. You could say that women have a similar problem--with breast size or physical appearance in general. But if we feel bad enough to need breast implants, we know that if we buy them, they really will work--the breast size really will increase. Whatever tiger penis shavings they're selling at xzslhg.com probably won't.

I've heard there are men out there who just have tiny (smaller than 3.5")penises. I've never encountered any. They must be a minute portion of the population. What happens to those guys, I wonder.

An End to the Death Penalty

2007-01-04T08:00:00.001-08:00

America is at an all time low for executions. Great. But we are still wasting tons of money on judges, lawyers, executioners, etc. I don't think people who are in for horrible crimes are worth my tax dollars. I have a new solution: the re-institution of slavery. I'm not talking about horrible, horrible spirit-killing stuff. Just to make the people in jail to work as hard as our grandparents and great-grandparents worked. For no pay. (Just like the immigrant great grandparents.)
I mean, wouldn't it just take the coolness out of jail if no one had the time to work out, etc., but instead had to work as farmers and as shoe-factory employees for fifteen hours a day for the rest of their lives? And if you misbehave, you get worse: cleaning bathrooms, sewers, etc. Everyone should be too tired to even consider rape.
I suppose if the system worked well enough, it could pay for itself--or even pay America back for the money we've already wasted.

35 till I'm 85.

2007-01-03T12:35:00.001-08:00

At 35, I've finally started to see a couple of smile lines around my mouth, and said that's enough already. I want to look 35 until I'm 80. I looked on the Dr. Denese web site--her stuff is supposed to be the best: the highest concentration of vitamins, etc. Her stuff is also complicated. There's a list a mile long, with no pre-made "packs" for people in their 30's, 40's, 70's, whatever. Each product is also at least $30. Then I went looking on Q&A boards. Intelligent people seemed to be talking about going DIY, but they didn't site sources of info. With my skills at chemistry DIY, I'd probably end up making LSD instead of anti-oxident cream.

I chronicled this problem to my friend Donna, and she sent me an uncomplicated, but complete answer:

Hi Suki!
Ah...the lines and their prevention issue. You have mentioned this to the right person. My skin has been a small (read:huge) obsession since I was oh, eleven.
I have tried many products for many things (anti-acne, anti-wrinkle, line prevention, pore minimizers).
Consumer Reports came out with a big study the other day saying a lot of stuff out there, especially the expensive stuff, doesn't do a lot BUT did say the best stuff out there is the Olay Regenerist line.
I've used that- go for the serum and/or the cream, but forget the "lotion". I used something else recently that purported to impart "glow" and I WAS glowy; I ran out and intend to get more although I can't remember the name of the product. 99% sure it was Olay something but I'll know it when I see it in the store.
The general consensus among magazine articles interviewing dermatologists is that you want something with either retinol or Vitamin C for prevention. Retinol can be a little irritating at first and you need to use sunblock every day because it makes your skin more sensitive to sunlight.
Actually THAT's the number 1 prevention item right there : SUNBLOCK.
So, on the basis of my vast experience with many products and ridiculously expensive quest for good skin, I believe in serious (35-50 SPF) but cheap sunblock slathered on in the morning and some kind of retinol/Vitamin C serum topped with a moisturizer cream at night.
Oh, and also note that most line minimizers take about 6-8 weeks of use to see a difference, so don't give up if whatever you try doesn't seem to do much right away.

Denise

2006-11-27T13:22:00.001-08:00

I started exercising not too long ago. Probably about 3 months now, and I've really noticed a change in my body. Richard Simmons has gotten too easy, unless I turn every knee bend into a deep squat, and add a hop every chance I can. But I didn't have Richard when I first began exercising. All I had was an old Denise Austin tape from 1986.
I hate that tape. It's from the early days of aerobics, so all it is is Denise running in place and waving her arms around different ways. For the first few weeks I would feel like throwing up after I was done with it. When I exercised, I would imagine she was a puppet. I would swear at her, say I hated her.
Then I discovered my library had a huge exercise collection, so I started doing those instead, leaving Denise as my "punishment" tape--punishment for not having the forethought to get something better at the library. Believe me, I did not revisit it for quite some time.
Then one morning, all I had was Denise and a Harry Potter movie. I put them on, side by side, (yes, on two tv's!)and worked out. The Denise exercises were easy, and I followed them out of the corner of my eye. Maybe because it was from the corner of my eye, I noticed this:

Poor Denise! Her '80's hair is all sticking up wrong, she's staggering about, her hand movements all limp and uncontrolled. And I felt really bad. I don't know how many takes it took to do this one half hour of film, but it looks like they ran her ragged--and I started to wonder if I were in better shape now than she was then, even with my beer gut.

Do Women Have the Moral High Ground?

2006-11-16T09:03:00.001-08:00

Last night, after several drinks with my boyfriend, I said I was going home. He said he was going to his usual watering hole for another beer before he went home. I must've expressed surprise (he had just said an hour before that if there were no bar from the bar to the ferry, he probably wouldn't drink hardly at all), because he asked me, "What, do you think that's morally wrong?"

No one puts the word "moral" and "you" (meaning me) in the same sentence. Ethical, yes. Because it implies something more open than the sort of biblical "good" that "moral" implies.

And then I put pi x r2 together and saw the whole picture. In shock, I called my best friend for advice. "Charles! My boyfriend thinks I'm his moral compass!"

Charles said that was quite common. He said he feels that way about his new wife. I said, first of all, that I'm not Christian. My idea of being good is being more of one's self and bad being less of one's self. So, if being a drunk is who you really are, that's who I want you to be (though I think that's not necessarily what I'm looking for in a long term relationship). And besides, making a woman (or anyone) your moral compass is really dangerous. "Women aren't more "good" than men. They are just more conniving and sneakier about their--their--"

"Evil-ness?"

"Yes."

Charles promised to be careful. You be more careful, too.

Sexual Positioning Furniture

2006-11-07T10:59:00.001-08:00

The chair and the swing look the most interesting for the brave folks who don't have children asking what those contraptions are in the bedroom. The "liberator" stuff looks like it might be good for people with lower back problems. To see the whole site, click here.

You probably should click there, it will get you past disclaimers a mile long. I don't want to think about injuries on some of these things.

Sex in Shape

2006-11-06T11:26:00.001-08:00

My boyfriend was horrified to hear that sex had gotten better "since I started working out." He loves me for my mind of course. Who else can go from talking about comics with gorilla covers to condoms in less than two sentences? (And don't you wish you were around for that conversation?) But I have noticed a difference, not only all the new moves I can do but how long I can do them and how fast and aggressive I can be. He feels like he gets in deeper--can't be that much deeper! I haven't lost that much weight. The most important part for me is the difference in the way he touches me. His caresses are more aggressive and firm, a real turn-on for me. It's not a conscious change for him, but we're both still just animals, and physical appearance is still an interaction, whether we find that "shallow" or not: we still see and are seen, and that in itself is a love affair.

Blogicide

2006-10-30T10:09:00.001-08:00

Overwhelmed by myspace blog subscriptions, vast numbers of worthy "friends" and underwhelmed by how much attention I could pay to each, I committed blogicide on myspace a few weeks ago. Well, not really blogicide--I cut and pasted the whole thing into a word doc, and then killed my myspace account. I don't miss it. I think it hurt for an entire half hour. I'm glad I made a few real friends out of my myfriends.

I wish I could be funnier about this but my tube socks are too tight. Ow.

Hot Moms in the U.S.A.

2006-10-12T08:23:00.001-07:00

So, in my morning Metro newslet, there was an article on the new tv show, Hottest Mom in America, in which the writer said that it's basically fuktup (and I agree, but I don't think this is any more fugtup than any other reality show), and that moms shouldn't be worried about hotness. The rules said that the age of the contestants could be anywhere from 18 to 60, Gilderman commented that 60-year-old moms had real problems.

When I went to the Hot Moms web site, I couldn't help noticing that fake boobs were prevalent among the contestants.

Here is my response:
----- Forwarded Message ----
From: me
To: thedatinglife@metro.us
Sent: Thursday, October 12, 2006 8:53:19 AM
Subject: Hot Moms?

Dear Mr. Gilderman:

Thank you for pointing out the insignificance of so-called "hotness" in a mother's life. Hopefully, your article will reach the desks of Ms. Jolie's, Ms. Witherspoon's, and Ms. Paltrow's respective publicists. I am sure, once they are informed, they will start eating Twinkies(R) and bow out gracefully. And you are completely right about sexy mothers at 60! I shall send letters to Catherine Deneuve, Jane Fonda and Susan Sarandon myself.

"Suki"

http://love-suki.blogspot.com
http://23rd-mandalation.net

the '70's returns.

2006-09-27T12:47:00.001-07:00

I always heard the '70's would return. Not the cool, hippie '70's, but the nasty, long-haired balding aqua-velva gold chain "what's your sign,baby" '70's. And there it is. Living proof. Not only did this dude have all the aforementioned things in that list, but he also had streaks in his hair. Streaks!

Oh, man.

I always knew things would get bad if I got a camera phone.

Easy-Lay Crab Stuffed Shells.

2006-08-28T08:44:00.001-07:00

Once again, I can't believe I haven't written in so long.

For an "Artist Date" (that is something that you spend time doing, just cuz you feel like it, just for fun) I made crab-stuffed shells for my boyfriend and his dad. They loved them so much, they were smacking their lips, and eating even after they were full. This is how you do it: when you go to the grocery store, grab the box of giant shells first--make sure it has the recipe for shells stuffed with cheese on the back.
Get all of the ingredients, but only buy 1/2 of the needed ricotta cheese (one container of it, instead of 2).

Then buy: 2 cans of white crab, plus a small onion, or 3 cans of white crab.

When you are ready to cook:
1. drain the cans of crabmeat, and, if you are using it--dice half the onion (that means chop it into as small pieces as you can without cutting your fingers off)
2. sautee the crab and if any, onion in butter for 3 minutes. set aside.
3. start following the directions on the back of the box. when you make the filling, add the sauteed crab (& onion?)
4. finish the recipe just the way it says on the box--timing/temp, everything.

Deeelish! If you want to make it a little extra seafoody, you can get a can of tiny shrimp to add to the sauce before baking, too.

yes, this was a bit of an aphrodisiac.

:)

Good Girl Sex vs. What I Like

2006-08-07T08:23:00.001-07:00

Some people have asked me what good girl sex is.
Simply put, it's the sex your parents would want you to have:

no clothes, including "uniforms" (see below)
no handcuffs or rope
no vibrators or other machinery
no spanking or other implements of pain
no fantasy games
no pornography
in a bed
between 2 people who know and love each other
and lasts a half hour, including making out, etc.

I think I was bored of good girl sex around age 16. My boyfriend did me naked in the missionary position every day for a month. All I thought to myself, is this it? Is this what everyone's excited about?

For me, sex is also an art--and by that I also mean not just high quality in technique, but also a means of expression. So, I not only enjoy clothes, hand cuffs, games, public sex (yes, and at times with people I don't know) and porno (though I have, sworn off porno for months at a time) I also need some of these accessories to feel like I'm really express myself fully in this art form. Which isn't exactly "bad girl" sex-- a lot of religious people wouldn't like it, and certainly not what my parents would want for me.

But it's what makes me feel fulfilled as a person, so I try not to let other people's opinions bother me.

Night and Day. Saturday and Sunday.

2006-07-31T12:30:00.001-07:00

Saturday turned out to be such a glamorous day...after
taking my boyfriend to Penn Station, and kissing one of the most
romantic goodbye kisses ever in a train station--that should've been
followed by me running after the departing train and waving, but
because of terrorism, non-ticket holders are not allowed on the
platform anymore, I got my own train ticket to Long Beach, Long Island.
The line for a ticket was long--about 20 minutes, and the people in
front of me--all, also heading points east, were gaggles of golfers and
bunches of the brawny beach set. I had never seen so many tan people
together at once. It made me feel...pale and alien. or perhaps like a
pale alien.

Although the line was long, the beach was long, and so was the island,
the train ride was relatively short: 45 minutes, and I was hugging my
friend, Jessica. We had been friends for 17 years now. After marching
up and down the main drag looking for an open Thai, then open Italian
restaurant, we landed at the "Global Cafe" or some such. Deeelish!
Jessica had an 8,000 calorie steak salad, and I had Japanese Pankar and
barbecue fries (fish n' chips).Afterward, for a surprise, she took me
for a mani-pedi and 10 minute backrub, and I said, "Jessica, you took
me out for my birthday and made me a year younger." Actually, it was
more like five years younger. (Toes "garnet" and fingers "Fed Up" which
matches my skin).

We went to the beach, and actually got into the water--the waves were
rough and I did some body surfing, but not before some Baywatch action.
The lifeguard supervisor's truck came, and the life guard frantically
blew his whistle. Everyone out of the water! Some people thought it
might be a shark. The lifeguard said they already had an emergency, but
no one was rescued. I thought it might be a crowd control exercise.
Guinea pig again!

After a few glasses of wine on the penthouse rooftop, complete with
gargoyles, I headed back to Manhattan in a run. I had to make my
friend's play reading of "Kryptonite Hearts." It was a costumed reading
about people who get a kinky high about pretending to be superheroes
(and the villains who like to be beaten by them.) It's too bad one of
my friends couldn't make it, but it was a packed house, anyway. After
that, dinner with the stars of the play, and back at my house by 12:30.
Strange ferry action on the way home: a group of 30 or so were singing
victory songs in Spanish or maybe Portuguese. Some NY'ers got
really angry, and started chanting NOO YAHK! NOO YAHK! at them, like a
bunch of assholes.

Sunday, restless, and feeling the need to drink and have a laugh, I went to surprise my friend, Steve Bunche

at his job in Brooklyn. Surprise to me, though, was that his hours
changed, so I went for a walk. I think I became dehydrated with
low-glucose, because it became a very long walk:

Once I found some decent Spanish food at a restaurant my 2nd
husband and I were regulars at, I decided that cool air was better than
hot, that being in the dark movie theater was just the escape I needed
from the missing my boyfriend, and now my ex-... So I got on the train,
and went to the 20-plex nearest the ferry terminal:

By the time I got there--3 pm, nothing was playing but Clerks
II--and gee I didn't know if I'd get it without having seen
Clerks I-- and so I hung out at the World Financial Center air
conditioning, with the well-paid tourist set and read a book on massage
so I can heal my boyfriends arms (and my shoulders) and ended up having
to run to the ferry to meet my kid.

That's it. And I still have my cold. And poison ivy.

Orgy Fun

2006-07-24T13:27:00.001-07:00

I haven't been involved in anything like an orgy since I was a teen. Here's a group that sponsors orgies as "higher consciousness" events where you can learn about your barriers, overcome your fear of rejection (of all the people who will turn you down in your most sensitive state) etc., etc.

It might be good if you are single. If you go as a couple, be warned: someone will get more or better than the other, and all hell will break loose. Love/jealousy are ancient and intense energies. I would not fool with them.

Why Not Blogging

2006-07-20T12:52:00.001-07:00

I'm so tired, for the past month, all I've had is normal, "good girl" sex.
I'm so tired, I feel no joy in personality.
In fact, I feel scrubbed clean of it.
I really do not think sleep would help.
Nor coffee.
Nor cocaine.
Perhaps that is because I am so tired, I can barely see the coffee in front of me.
And on top of that, I am tired of tiredness. It's a twilight reality, a starvation of the soul.

The Kind of Pin-Up Gal I am.

2006-06-28T08:36:00.001-07:00

What Classic Pin-Up Are You?

You're Bettie Page!
Take this quiz!

Quizilla |
Join

| Make A Quiz | More Quizzes | Grab Code

Choosing Porn for Couples

2006-06-14T17:30:00.001-07:00

So, you and your lover have decided to take the plunge and try watching porn together. Maybe you're looking for educational purposes (new positions) or maybe she's into chicks or watching or just curious, or bored or you wouldn't have it any other way. In any case, you are at Ye Olde Porn Superstore or Pleasure Palace or online, and you notice Hot Ass #27--9 hours of Hot Ass Sex is $39.99,and so is Possessions, directed by Andrew Blake which is 116 minutes. Sure, Possessions looks better, but... nine hours is seven and a half hours more...

But Hot Ass #27 is going to be seven and a half hours more of...tit enlargement scars, ass zits, scenes so badly lit all the skin is green and other gross stuff that chicks just don't want to look at. Not only will she be sickened, but she'll think all men are pigs or worse, "oh god, my guy is a pig."

Now if you buy anything by Andrew Blake or anything by Vivid Video, it may have an actual plot--sure they're dumb, but it does help break the ice--but if she's turned on enough by the video, believe me, you are not going to be watching more than fifteen minutes at a time anyway...it'll last...

To see more simple rules of couples porn video enjoyment, click on the title of this entry. For more suggestions of porn for women, click here.

So obvious,...

2006-06-13T12:22:00.001-07:00

Erotic Thriller

You've made your own rules in life - and sometimes that catches up with you.
Winding a web of deceit comes naturally, and no one really knows the true you.

Your best movie matches: Swimming Pool, Unfaithful, The Crush

If Your Life Was a Movie, What Genre Would It Be?

So obvious, why bother?

Yes, but is it art?

2006-06-06T13:33:00.001-07:00

For my next art project, I am going to buy four of these paint by numbers kits

And paint each one of them a different wrong way (if one is supposed to be brown, I'll make it pink, in the next, the one that's supposed to be brown will be blue, etc.) and put them all together on my wall.

Too bad I didn't think of it for 666 day. Man, how should I celebrate 666 day?

How COULD HE? SHE? THEY?

2006-06-05T13:07:00.001-07:00

I was thinking of closing out this blog and my myspace blog today--generally committing blogicide--when I saw this:

FREE RENT PLUS ADULT AGREEMENT
Reply to: Dennis14th@aol.com
Date: 2006-06-05, 3:52AM EDT

I have a friend who has done this and now in a mutual agreed relationship with a person that is benefiting from their arrangement. I have a decent size room in Staten Island that Is a great bedroom. I don't need the rent but being busy, I find it hard to socialize nor do I have a girlfriend. I am offering a femenine girl this room in exchange for her upmost generosity (which would be sexual) . I am out of town a lot and work all hours. this is also a house and not an apartment. so if you think this is you, then lets help each other out. Everything is included. please attach a photo with your responses and if you have any questions please feel free to ask. Serious responses only and uptight nerdy people who have nothing better to do then to get into other peoples business don't waste your time, I don't care.

* yes -- cats are OK - purrr
* this is in or around Staten Island
* no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

168088268

Birthday weekend

2006-05-31T06:59:00.001-07:00

Well, to be honest, it started out with a fight between me and my boyfriend. It was my first husband who noticed that I pick fights when I'm very horny, and I had been all week. So, on Friday night, I picked a fight, went home and cried myself to sleep. Out of horniness.

The next morning, I was still upset, and thought of cancelling thedinner with my boyfriend, my best old friend and his fiance, the coolest couple on staten island, and my pal from 23rd Mandalation. But somehow, I got myself together by telling myself I would have fun shopping for a special vintage outfit for the dinner. Telling myself I would find a pencil skirt in zebra stripes got me in a party mood.

Unfortunately, there wasn't one at the store...I ended up with a rock'n'roll princess outfit consisting of a black lace shawl, a halter top with a glittery skull on it, and a floor length taffeta skirt. I called my boyfriend to pick me up at the Everything Goes store, and went home where he took care of that little problem I mentioned before.

The next thing we knew, it was time to go into the city--I forgot my mascara, bought some at the Duane Reade, after standing in a long line and watching two Japanese ladies put away candy they wanted to buy, but were not going to because of the line. They should've kept it, because, basically, we were out the door before they were.

The boyfriend bought me a gold bracelet from a street vendor, and then we headed over to L'Annam, a Vietnamese restaurant. I had only been to their old location on 27th St., which I think I mostly enjoyed because their menu was in such broken English: besides, it featured Grandma Special Recipe Stew, which I think was made of grandmas. The new place had no a/c, the waitrons kept bringing us the wrong food, and finally picked up the tip before we left the table.

All of my friends, new and old, internet and bar buds, got along great. No, one had met each other before. My best friend's fiancee rolfed my arm at the table. We talked about Wonder Woman and her evil Panzer villain, Charles's upcoming play reading (it's his play being read, not him reading someone else's), Opus Dei, my friend Paranoidave who I left behind in Pittsburgh. Paranoidave was a paranoid schizophrenic who was afraid of black helicopters, George H.W. Bush, white vans and yellow trucks. It was Charles who said it sounded like Paranoid Lucky Charms "black helicopters, white vans, yellow trucks...mmmm...psychotically delicious!"

Afterward we went for egg creams, and finally beer at Otto's Shrunken Head, a tiki bar--and basically my favorite bar in the city. They were having the "midnight hop" The Rockin' 69's a rockabilly band was playing. We were all a little afraid because 1) the bass player had no ass, and was humping his upright bass 2) there were about 15 women there dressed as Betty Page. I had to ask one of them why. The answer made me cringe: "It's the look of the scene I guess." You know the scene has gone down hill when even the artsy kids can't think for themselves.

My gifts were an ameri-bear, Holy Blood Holy Grail, books by Lloyd Alexander, and an air conditioner.

Sunday night, the boyfriend and I drank, and hung out with sailors (it's fleet week) and people playing "Journey" on the juke at the Side Street Saloon.

Monday the boyfriend picked me up that air conditioner I mentioned earlier, and had dinner with his brother and his family.

There was so much more to the weekend. It was so great, I want to get a tattoo to remember it all by.

My Heroes

2006-05-23T09:44:00.001-07:00

I know a lot of people think that this blog is me, but that's just like saying a writer's magazine articles are him. To bring us back to reality, here is a list of my heroes. I hope you enjoy.
This is by chronological order. I don't think that anyone has been completely de-heroed, just gained or lost importance over time.

1. My dad.
2.Anyone who had a painting at MOMA
3.Laura Ingalls Wilder (the writer, not the TV character
4.The financial analyst on WBZ news around 1981. (He was just so smart!)
5.
Constantin Brancusi
6.

David Alfaro Siqueiros

7. John Lennon

7.Dennis O'Neil, because he took Batman who sold Wonderbread and made him an instrument of vengeance.

8. Alfred North Whitehead, educator

9. Edward Bellamy, utopian

10.
Len Kaminski--brilliant comic book writer with the wrong dream. Also boyfriend. Can you smell trouble?

11. Bill Gates, Steve Case, Steve Jobs, esp. Jobs.

12. John Paul Jones and John Bonham (rhythm section--look it up, if you have to)

13.
Dave Dreiwitz. Fab bass player--I kissed his hands like he was the pope once.

14. William Goldman, screenwriter

15.
Those Braun Bros.(foreground) of the Negatones: Brilliant Composers.
16.Julia Cameron
17.Ben Franklin
18. Urban pioneers
19. Stan Schmidt, editor of Analog

Book Review: The System: How To Get Laid TODAY!

2006-05-20T07:42:00.001-07:00

Okay, I will admit I was offended by the title: even hot chicks are more than just pieces of meat, you know. But then I was fascinated. Would this be about lies, tricks? Does this man know some core secret about women that even I do not know? But I squared my shoulders, opened the book, and found out that it is the Goddess's gift to men and women. All of us.

Think about this: every one, man or woman, just wants to get laid every once in a while, and this book is about getting those people together. So whether you are suffering from severe horniness, or suffering from your friend's severe horniness,it helps YOU. First of all, it teaches men how to scan for women who are horny at that instant (so they stay away from the rest of us) and teaches them the cues that women use to indicate interest/noninterest. Because face it, if there is anything more annoying than a guy hounding you all night, it's throwing yourself at a man all night only to learn later that he was into you too, but just had the blinders on for whatever reason. Men who read this book learn to pick up the cues faster, or move on faster. Yippee! Whotta gift!

The other thing this book teaches is for men to take control of the situation sooner, rather than later. Not every "good girl" feels like being "good" all the time. While Mr. Valentine has the gist of women, he doesn't seem to have all of the psychology down--and I'm kind of glad, because I wouldn't want him to know all of our secrets. But for an example, he seems to think that women look for men all the time because of some kind of conscious "game" they are playing, but really, it's because Cosmo or one of the other magazines runs an article every six months reminding us to look for men at the laundromat, or whatever, and supplies us a pick up line or two.

My favorite phrase in the book is "guaranteed panty dropper" and the book includes "Guaranteed Panty Dropping Recipes." I think it should be a sequal, or a cooking show. While I think it is very true that cooking for a woman REALLY REALLY helps, I have heard cooking horror stories from some of my male friends (which involved slaving over a hot stove all day), so I hesitate to use the word "guaranteed."

I think this book is a dandy read--men should pick it up just for the sections about body language and making a woman feel comfortable, even if they do not feel the need to get laid TODAY. Women should read it just for a clear idea of what they are up against (for instance, I didn't know that some men needed to be told not to spank me before we had sex. But apparently some men do. Desperately). But it is also bald in spots. It misses out on meeting intelligent women--we do get the itch too, y'know-- which requires more dialogue on current affairs, or outside interests, rather than just nodding while she talks and asking her about herself. Intelligent women are bored with themselves, but if they share your interests (like you meet them at the opera) they can be easier to talk to/listen to.

It also misses out on the technical--especially in the "How to Be an International Player" section. Okay, stop laughing or sneering: this is actually a section about maintaining casual relationships with women after the first encounter. He does write about treating women well, including being truthful and giving multiple orgasms and adding a little mystery. Aside: I did feel a little offended when I first started reading this chapter, but then I had to ask myself if I would advise women to sleep around while hunting for "the One" and I absolutely would--if for no other reasons than keeping perspective--and a strong ego-- when one guy turns out to be a married, another an alkie, another an international player, and finally, a nice, shy one that turns out to be a good guy. And then I didn't feel offended anymore. Like I said, there's little in the way of technical information: it mentions giving us multiple orgasms, but doesn't give any information on how to add stamina or cunninlingus methods. He also mentions leaving women wanting more--which, frankly, leaves me kicking the man's ass out the door while I call an old "friend" who can satisfy. Fortunately, that is what you all have myself and El Buncho for.

If you are single, buy this book!!! (Right now, I am selling my own for $15.00, incl. shipping in U.S.A., just to make back my losses on this and my biblioscopes. My copy is new. Email me at stephanier10301@yahoo.com. All love, no judgments.--Suki.)

Not This Girl

2006-05-10T13:15:00.001-07:00

this was a bulletin on myspace. My myfriend Cirese added her own response. I will add my own response tomorrow.

From Cirese:

So far I have seen this pathetic thing twice and I want to put a stop to it.

This girl is CoDependent and Easily led. I will now demonstrate how an Independent Girl with some Good Self Extreme and a Sense of Humor is:

The original ridiculousness is in lower case. I will respond with ALL CAPS

And I will put my responses in italic. I want to say here that there is nothing wrong with being somewhat needy. Without neediness, there is nothing to bring people together. And love and community are some of the most meaningful experiences life has to offer. Ask anyone. Ask Buddha or Jesus, or Aphrodite.--Sukes
--------------------------

*I was once this girl...maybe she is still buried deep inside somewhere under all of this.*

i'm the girl who will put her head on your shoulder, not because she's sleepy, but because she wants to be closer to you...

I'M THE GIRL WHO WILL PUT MY HEAD ON YOUR SHOULDER BECAUSE YOU ARE SHORT. IF I WANT TO BE CLOSER TO YOU I WILL GRAB YOU AND GIVE YOU A BIG SMOOCH THEREBY ELIMINATING ALL DOUBT IN YOUR MIND.

I will probably not put my head on your shoulder, because that would interfere with our conversation.

i'm the girl who likes to be kissed in the rain, more than inside your bedroom or in an expensive resturant...

I'M THE GIRL THAT LIKES TO BE KISSED AFTER YOU HAVE ASKED MY PERMISSION FIRST. YOU EVEN TRY ONCE TO DO IT AGAINST MY BETTER JUDGEMENT OR IF YOU LOOK LIKE A CROSS BETWEEN SOMEONE VERY DEAD LIKE NOAH AND SOMEONE IN VEGAS LIKE TOM JONES, YOU CAN FORGET ABOUT THE KISSING BUSINESS, OK? YOU CAN SAY HELLO TO BRUISES.

I'm the girl that is so horny, I will french kiss you in public or private. I also prefer sex in public.

i'm the girl who says,"ok, but you owe me..." jokingly not because i actually want something, but because it means i get to spend more time with you...

I AM THE GIRL WILL DIRECTLY TELL YOU THE TERMS OF AGREEMENT AND MAKE YOU SIGN SOMETHING IF YOU OWE ME. I HAVE BEEN SCREWED OVER ENOUGH TIMES BEFORE. IF I WANT TO SPEND MORE TIME WITH YOU I WILL TELL YOU SO DIRECTLY BECAUSE I'M NOT PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE. I WILL EVEN MAKE SUGGESTIONS OF FUN THINGS TO DO.

I don't want anyone to think they owe me anything. I'm a lover, not an obligation.

i'm the girl you can take absolutely anywhere and i will ((or at least try to)) have fun because it means i am spending time with you...

I WILL NOT GO ANYWHERE WITH YOU. YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN GOING POO. YOU ARE ON YOUR OWN BUYING COMPUTER EQUIPMENT, MOUNTAIN CLIMBING GEAR AND ANYTHING INVOLVING ANY SPORT. IF I SOMEHOW ACCIDENTALLY GET DRAGGED ALONG I WILL POUT AND NOT TRY TO HAVE FUN AT ALL. TOGETHER WE WILL MAKE A LIST OF FUN THINGS WE BOTH ENJOY DOING. IF THERE IS NOTHING, WE WILL BE FORCED TO BREAK UP.

I had to divorce my second husband because he liked show tunes and Reggaetone. 'Nuff said.

i'm the girl who is incredibly picky, but when i find someone i like i want to spend the whole night curled up in their arms...

WELL THIS IS ONLY SENSIBLE; BUT THERE IS STILL THAT LITTLE THING CALLED A PROMISE. I'M NOT JUST SPENDING THE NIGHT IN SOMEONE'S ARMS BECAUSE I HAVE PICKED THEM. THEY HAVE TO PICK ME TOO AND THEN AN AGREEMENT MUST BE REACHED TO NOT GO AROUND PICKING OTHER PEOPLE OR CASUAL DISEASES UP THAT MIGHT BE LYING AROUND.

I'm the girl who is a chaste (this does not mean what most people think it means), but raging nympho. I use the blink method (read a book!) and keep a supply of my favorite brand of condoms. Do I have to paint you a picture?

i'm the girl who never forgets all sweet little things you do for me...

I'M THE ONE THAT HAS TO WRITE EVERYTHING DOWN...

I thank profusely, and then only remember that you're a nice guy.

i'm the girl who actually keeps her body parts in her clothing in public...

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, I'M THE ONE WHO ANSWERS THE MAIL WITHOUT HER TOP ON, AHAHAHAHAHA. NUDITY IS UNDER-RATED. ON THE OTHERHAND, I DO NOT GO "OUT" ON THE TOWN LIKE THIS. I WEAR BODY PAINT AT THE VERY LEAST.

I DO like to dress up for my guy. I want to get all that testosterone going to fuel the long night ahead of us.

i'm the girl who never gives up hope even when i tell others i have...

I MIGHT NOT GIVE UP HOPE, BUT I KNOW ENOUGH WHEN TO SAY 'NO' AND THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN BEING STUPID AND PRAYING FOR SOMEONE.

I am the girl who says, fukit, there are so many men out there, why dwell on the wrong one. The day I break up with someone is also the day the interesting ads appear on craigslist.

i'm the girl who once i let you into my heart, there's always a place there with your name on it. & even if we spend time apart.

YES, AND THAT NAME IS PROBABLY "IDIOT". I EXPECT ONLY THE BEST AS THAT'S WHAT I EXPECT FROM MYSELF.

I am the gal who wants to get your name tattooed on her back just for irony/white trash sleaze factor sake. (But when we break up, it'll immediately be covered by Batman logo, because Batman is hot!)

i'm the girl who never forgets you.

THIS IS VERY WISE FOR YOU TO NEVER EVER FORGET...

I'm the girl who does not remember the name of everyone she's slept with, especially from when I was 23. Twenty-three was the year I went on a "I sleep only with men who can't speak English" spree.

i'm the girl who loves to end a hug with a kiss...

NOT ALWAYS I DON'T...

I'm the girl who loves to end with a shower. And then more sex.

i'm the girl who you can talk to you about anything...

THIS IS TRUE; BUT BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU SAY, BECAUSE I'M ALSO THE GIRL WHO REACTS TO EVERYTHING AS WELL AND YOU MIGHT JUST NOT LIKE IT. I DON'T TAKE ANY SHIT.

You can talk to me about anything. Just don't expect us to stay together if you say something degrading or stupid.

i'm the girl who laughs at your jokes...

NOPE. IF THEY ARE STUPID, I DO NOT LAUGH. I WILL GIVE YOU AN HONEST CRITIQUE.

I love to laugh, but I hear I have a great withering look.

i'm the girl who will have many inside jokes with you and will remember each one...

DEPENDS ON WHO YOU ARE. IF YOU ARE MY FRIEND AND I TRUST YOU AND LIKE YOU AND PERHAPS LOVE YOU, THEN YES. FEW GET INTO THAT INNER CIRCLE, RIGHT ABDUL?

If we don't make each other laugh, I will leave you.

i'm the girl who will brag about you to all of my friends...

HELL NO. I'M THE ONE WHO KEEPS YOU ALL TO MYSELF.

I'm the girl who brags about you to her friends...and brags about all her friends to you until you are afraid to meet them and all their superior coolness.

i'm the girl who will listen to you talk...

YES, I COLLECT DATA. AND IF I LOVE YOU, I WANT TO HEAR YOUR VOICE ENDLESSLY.

I'm with Cirese on this one.

i'm the girl who loves it when you hug me for no apparent reason...

DUH

Double Duh.

i'm the girl who loves it when you hug me from behind or kiss me on the forehead..

WITH PROPER IDENTIFICATION THAT IT IS YOU DOING THIS. OTHERWISE YOU MIGHT END UP FLAT ON YOUR BACK... WHICH, COME TO THINK OF IT IS JUST WHERE I MIGHT LIKE YOU TO BE.

This will not happen because of my past, I know to keep my back to the wall, and eyes on the door.

i'm the girl who loves you for you, and doesn't care what other people say about us...

NOT NECESSARILY. IF PEOPLE ARE GOING AROUND SAYING YOU ARE HAVE A PAST AS A SERIAL KILLER AND AN ARREST RECORD, I'M GOING TO LISTEN TO THEM NO MATTER THAT YOU CAN EXPLAIN THE BLOOD UNDER YOUR NAILS.

I have a backbone, but I know that sometimes other people are right.

i'm the girl who loves it when you introduce me to your friends as your girlfriend...

UM NO. THIS DEPENDS. AM I YOUR GIRLFRIEND? HAVE WE AGREED ON THIS BEFOREHAND? IF YOU JUST START INTRODUCING ME AS YOUR GIRLFRIEND AND I'M NOT. THERE WILL BE REPURCONCUCUSSIONS.

You better introduce me as your girlfriend; as soon as I feel shamed or hidden, I'm outta there.

i'm the girl who loves the feeling when you take me by the hand without saying a word...

THIS CAN BE NICE. THEN AGAIN, I'M THE GIRL WHO WILL TAKE 'YOU' BY THE HAND WITHOUT A WORD. HELL, I'LL EVEN TRY TO PICK YOU UP BODILY...

I like the hand holding, but I prefer the old-fashioned, Grace Kelly, my-hand-in-the crook of your-elbow routine.

----------------------
Below is a bunch of immature, self-righteous garbage.

SWEET HEARTED GIRLS : If you are this girl repost this saying "I'm this girl"

THIS SHOULD BE "I'M A CODEPENDENT GIRL"

DUDES: If you want this girl repost "I want this Girl"

THIS SHOULD BE "I WANT A CODEPENDENT GIRL"

LUCKY BASTARDS: repost "I have this girl"

THIS SHOULD BE "I WANT A CODEPENDENT GIRL"

UNLUCKY GUYS: "I had this girl, once. I want her back

THIS SHOULD BE "I NEED THERAPY, SO I CAN GET A HEALTHY GIRL"

----------------------------

....AND OF COURSE

GIRLS WITH HIGH SELF EXTREME: "I am OK by myself. But if I happen to meet the right person for me; wonderful. We'll see where it goes!"

The Ruthless Nympho Method/Success with Men Review.

2006-05-06T07:05:00.001-07:00

"How to Succeed with Men" is actually a good book for women getting back into the singles scene and would like to find a steady boyfriend. This is not a book about getting married. (This is written by men--they wouldn't betray their kind so easily!)
As a Nympho, I only use the Ruthless Nympho method (which only work for chics who love sex, but hey, I'm just me here!)

The Ruthless Nympho method:
1. Go to a place that you enjoy, where a lot of men hang out. Hopefully, you won't know any of them.
2. While you flirt, use your gut instinct to decide if there is any possibility any one of them could be your best friend. Even if they seem shy or awkward. If so, give this guy the most amazing sex of his life as soon as possible. Yes, sex in public restrooms is ok, but only if they're clean. Tip: carry your own supply of your favorite condom.
3. Forget him. Repeat steps one and two. This may take a few tries, but its awfully fun.
4. When he finally tracks you down (and one of these guys will, even if he has to stalk you) get him totally addicted to sex with you, by fucking his brains out all the time.
5. After a few weeks the love hormones kick in (it's true, the New York magazine says so), and he will find the idea of your having sex with anyone else somewhere between repugnant and completely insane.
6. Complete. Enjoy your warm bed every night!

If you are not that shy and have some technical skill, this should only take you about a month, especially if you include some guys that you believe had a crush on you while you were attached.

If you are shy, but are fab in bed (you know this is true because you are always having a good time in bed), replace step one with online dating. You should find someone goooood in a month.

If you don't have any technical skill at all--sex is not fun, don't bother with this method, but do buy yourself a copy of "Our Bodies, Ourselves" and "The Joy of Sex," because you deserve to have all the fun in bed you can in this lifetime.

Guides to Getting Laid. Biblioscopes. Yeesh.

2006-05-04T06:05:00.001-07:00

So, I write these things called Biblioscopes once a week on 23rd-mandalation and on myspace. I use books for divining the future for the coming week for all sun signs. I try to pick books no one would usually pick. Last week, I got "How to Have Success with Men" or some such nonsense, about how to get married. These books were bunk. I know how to get married. Did it twice, lived with one guy once who still thinks we are married, even though we never got married nor were even close (deranged).

Okay, so to balance the stupid "how to get married" book, I tried to find a "how to get laid" book, which, if you look at the archives, is how this all got started. There are no "how to get laid" books at the public library. I'm thinking I may have to buy one. So I went to Amazon. And I became very, very afraid, and very fascinated. First of all, none of the girls on the book covers look like me (of course). Which is scary, because I'm getting older, etc., etc. Actually, I never looked too much like those chics in the first place (too much personality in my face, never was skinny). Secondly, it makes me afraid, because I am kind of good looking, and I hate feeling like prey. It is freekin' scary if you ask me. And thirdly, which I think is my worst fear of all, is this: would any of these techniques work on me? I mean, I'm attached, so I'm out of the game. But if I weren't, would this crap work on me? I don't want them to. On the other hand, what does it mean about me if they don't? I told everyone I was going to write this, so whether I want to look into this book or not, I'm going to have to...

How to Succeed with Men

2006-04-29T06:03:00.001-07:00

I am on my second beer this morning (see previous post). I got out “How to Succeed with Men” from the library because I thought it would be terribly funny for Biblioscopes, but on my way home from dropping my kid off with his dad, I started to wonder about it. Do these guys really know something I do not know? So I started reading. It is a very fast read. It is has so far been essentially a book of lists: 10 Step Master Plan, 8 Myths About Dating You Can’t Afford to Believe, Seven Steps of Creating Your Relationship Action Plan, etc., etc.

The section entitled “Charting Your Men” made me laugh so hard on the 5 train, everyone was staring at me.

To break it down, these guys think that success with men means getting married. And I do think that is mostly true about women. As the ones who are weakened by pregnancy, and end up raising the kids, I think it’s hard-wired into our systems to try to mate for life, just as it is hard-wired into the male system to propagate the species. But I also think that the things that get us past this disparity is what make us find our spirituality and our humanity. (uh-oh! Drinking! I’m getting philosophical!)

The guys who wrote this book are goal-oriented, and I think that their time-line is totally off. They talk about presenting a “commitment deal” after only four-months of solid, steady dating, and I wouldn’t dream of it before a year. They also think that you should “test” your dates for the qualities that you are looking for (patience, loyalty, etc.) whereas I use the ‘Blink’ method. ‘Blink’ was the book that said all decisions were so complex that you should make your decision on your gut instinct, from the first second you see the subject—in this case, a guy.

They put the kibosh on dating myths (or they just could’ve said man myths) like “All the good ones are married or gay; or “Men can’t handle a powerful woman.” They were mostly right, except for “Men have fragile egos” which to them is a variation on the “men are babies” theme. I personally think that both men and women are insecure in different ways. Men have a strong need to be #1 to their women. I don’t mean first. I mean best. Doubt me? Just have a talk about how you dated a millionaire a couple times or start talking about notches in bedposts. (If yours are more than his, and there will be, if you are a good looking woman, prepare for a lot of crabbing.) So, what does this mean? If you feel a strong need to be negative, put it in a positive light. Instead of, “you smoke too much,” it should be “I don’t want you to die. You are too important. I need you too much.” Think framing, ladies, framing! And if you don’t really want to bother doing this, remember that you make them behave a certain way around you (no staring at waitress’s breasts, whatever) and they deserve this too.

I will plow through the rest of this thing, even though I have a man. I am dying to see what they say about “How to Be Successful with Women” aren’t you?

Where the heck Suki has been.

2006-04-29T06:00:00.001-07:00

It’s almost 8am, and I still can’t get back to sleep. I have no milk to increase my serotonin level (which leads to comfort and sleep) so I am drinking a beer. Sue me. I was up so late last night that to me, its not even morning yet. It’s still the middle of the night.

I have been on myspace, on an international myfriend-finding tour.(Myfriend is a term I like to distinguish between friends on myspace and actual friends, because on my friend-finding tour I have learned that some people think their myfriends should only be their actual real-life, non-electronic friends, and other people think their myfriends are people they have fukt or will fuk.) I went from having a couple subscribers to my blog (who I knew personally) and a couple of local myfriends to having almost 70 friends from around the world, and fourteen blog subscribers. I’ve been searching for friends in a broad age group—30 to 55—who either work in publishing or practice wicca. For some reason I get along with both, so that’s how I ran my searches. One of my myfriends lives in Iceland, and is quite the sexy, witty writer. Another is a tattoo artist and fire swallower in England, and I saw the coolest fire-dancing videos on one of his myfriends sites.

I think I actually started having fun on myspace after making about 50 friends, and joining a few groups. I write on the New We Hate Staten Island Group In my last topic,I mentioned the last place I had had public sex on the island, and asked others for their experiences. I am learning a lot about my new home this way: men answered nearly exclusively, because everyone is so Catholic on this rock. By the way, my new Staten Island sex fantasy involves having sex in the fog. Staten Island is quite the foggy place some mornings. I better have my boyfriend on-call. I write a more personal blog over there. It is nice to have “a place to rest on the page.”

So, I reverse my review from January. Join myspace. Make lots of friends (use the search and browse functions), join lots of groups, and hang out.

Suki plays by herself

2006-04-19T10:32:00.001-07:00

In my effort to enjoy the weekend (seeing as my kid and boyfriend were out of town) I found myself staring at a gaggle of twenty-somethings at the Side Street Salloon. It was a cluster of about three males telling terrible jokes around every female who was primping her hair.

I left the bar, thinking, well, might as well go home. And then I realized the boat was right there. I hopped on the 10pm boat to the city, and over to one of my favorite bars. Yes, by myself. Going by yourself is great, because you can leave whenever you want. And if you act crazy, no one who knows your social circle can report it.

The wonderful decor at the bar extends even to the ladies room, where a sign by the toilet begins "Not even Noah's Ark will save you from the flood that will occur if you..."

I saw my first speed wave band there. Speed wave? Well, remember New Wave? with drum machines and synthesizers? But this was played ten times faster, with a rawkin' drummer, who played drums along with the drum machine and a bass player who jumped around alternating between bass and the synth. FAN-TASTIC. Yes, I bought a t-shirt and hat. They had ray guns on them. How could I be working for 23rd Mandalation and not buy them?

I also danced my ass off to The Rants who had both a wicked sense of humor and a wicked groove. They played every version of "GLORIA". It lasted 15 minutes, until the guitarist was sick of it, and just leaned his guitar against his speaker for feed back, and the bass player and I both collapsed on the floor, begging the singer to stop.

Yes, I got home at 3:30. What a great time.

Head Games

2006-04-12T09:20:00.001-07:00

I think everyone can agree that the sexual life of long term relationships goes through certain stages: lust/chemistry, intimacy, habit/boredom/just-getting-off. Of course, there will always be especially hot nights during the last phase, and bad (physique/performance anxiety or just plain awkwardness) nights in the beginning.

But if someone especially loves sex, and wants to really enjoy steamy nights for the rest of their lives, they will go for someone smarter, rather than "hotter." Not that smart people can't be hot, but usually they spend more time reading than body building, and that makes for a certain physique.

My reasoning is simple, and simply this: 75% of enjoyment of sex is in your head, and in your head only. And I'm not talking about Brangelina fantasies. I'm talking about sensitivity, imagination, and open-mindedness. These are the qualities in a person that can make great sex go on forever, and always seem different.

Sensitivity stems from the other person being able to see and understand your signals and moods. Yes, it takes time, and caring. But it also takes some intelligence to digest all that information that you are dishing out with body-language--or even just what you are trying to express.

Imagination and open-mindedness are more closely linked, and I think obvious. Thinking of new positions, locations (along with the sensitivity to feel the difference) and attempts to try them out will always keep things fresh. But there is also the psychological side of sex to explore: mild kink or fantasy or restraint or "games." And when I'm talking about games I don't mean how long to wait before calling, but games of touching and blindfolds, mild restraint games can add new aspects to the whole experience.

And this is why I say give the guy or gal with the glasses and book a try. Instead of fun for a month, maybe fun for a long, long time.

Masked Sex--A Dangerous Game?

2006-04-07T06:29:00.001-07:00

One of the things I have not done yet is have sex in a domino mask with a masked partner. The reason I am thinking about domino masks is that they de-individuate each person, rather than, say, a mask of something, which people once wore to channel the spirit of that being (joy, sickness, sorrow, the spirit of the oxen, whatever)into themselves.

In the link above, they note that de-individuation through masks invites baser behavior (like taking more candy) and as a sexual animist (I got in trouble with my boyfriend for biting the other day) I wonder what my baser behavior would be. I wonder what my lover's would be. I wonder what we would become together.

I suppose some mild psycho-active drugging would probably be needed for full effect (light drinking, very mild drugs) and some extra time and mirrors to get used to seeing our new non-identities.

If anyone's tried this--or other experiences with masks, please comment or write to me.

Personals in Sri Lanka

2006-04-03T06:50:00.001-07:00

Check the above link.

I just couldn't believe it, it's true: they use classified ads to find their daughters husbands. Listings of dowry in the ads.

Holy crap.

Your Pussy Looks Fine!!!

2006-03-30T05:54:00.001-08:00

In the Monday Ad' vance was an article called "Like a Virgin" (click above title)about women having reconstructive surgery on their pussies. Some sounded like it was called for: so big after 10 kids, wanted to feel cock again. Fine.

Others wanted their hymen restored. Once you fuck--that's it, kids. Having surgery down will not get your purity back. I mean, are these chics going to lie to their boyfriends? Is it worth that kind of money?

And how about the women who just want their pussies to look better? I'm just speechless. I suppose, if they are going to be in porn mags, that's one thing...but how much of that really goes on? I have never heard one guy talking to his friends say, "I got down to that pussy, and it was one ugly dawg, yo!" If you have ever seen pussy so ugly it needed a nose-job, please feel free to comment. I could be wrong. I would want to know.

Pro-Choice/Pro-Life Response to Doc-T

2006-03-23T07:45:00.001-08:00

So, my co-blogger wrote this opinion piece on the pro-life/pro-choice issue based upon whether the fetus is alive or not. Which, of course the fetus is alive. But I think the mistake is looking at the "potentiality" of this life. People say, this baby could have been a genius, a doctor, a good person, etc., etc.

But being that this baby will not be wanted by its genetic parent, the potential is actually greater that this baby will grow up to be a drug addict, drunk driver, a murderer, a bringer of misery to the rest of us on this planet.

Really. Think about it. Most people who are plagues upon the rest of us blame their parents, who didn't really want them, who saw them as burdens, who treated them like crap.

I'm not supporting abortion. I couldn't hurt a fly. Okay, I can kill a fish, but if we had no supermarkets, that's the only meat I would eat. But I think that we need an abortion policy that acknowledges what the baby is...at that moment, and gives the mom a chance to decide to go through with the pregnancy (which was a really shitty experience for me, and my baby and I almost died in child birth, thanks). That's why I say that when the fetus is more bug-like, (first trimester) abortions should be granted, no questions asked. After that, though...I personally disagree with it.

That being said, the shame factor would make mothers risk their lives with amateur abortion attempts with clothes-hangers, etc., just like they used to. I think that's the main reason that abortion was legalized in the first place. The motel help was tired of cleaning up after amateur abortion messes. And teenage girls were dying a few days later.

Maybe what we should be doing for girls who want late-term abortions is having anonymous birthing clinics. These teenaged kids could go in and give birth and these babies would be immediately put up for adoption, no questions asked.

CNN Says SLACK OFF!

2006-03-17T11:11:00.001-08:00

As much as I wish having sex and taking care of a good kid were the only things I did, they are not. I must also go to work--which takes over an hour each way--and then be at work for 8 whole hours. But research now shows that working our asses off all the frigging time does not an effective workplace make. More here.

Back to Sex: the Dress Every Woman Should Have

2006-03-06T06:20:00.001-08:00

No, not the little black. Little black has little imagination as well. The dress that every woman should have is the shirt dress that buttons down from neck line to knee. Yes, it should go that long, and be made of a soft material, like jersey.

Not only is it very versatile (wear it to work buttoned up, and unbutton a few extra buttons for a hot date) but for that really special man, it can be an ultra hot sex garment. If he doesn't tell you after dinner he's been fantasizing about unbuttoning you the whole time (they do dig buttons) then before you get to bed, just unbutton down to your bra, and up to your panties. What can I say...this look adds kink, and if you're feeling chubby, hides flaws in an unselfconscious way.

Yes, I did have a great weekend. How could you tell?

Parenthood 3: Why isn't this fun yet?

2006-03-04T09:01:00.001-08:00

I'm not going to lie. Parenthood isn't all introducing your kid to Captain Marvel and Pac-Man and making snow angels. Those are fantastic moments, and in my opinion, balance out the dirty diapers, the toilet-training, and the tantrums which a lot of people have a lot of anxiety about. When you think about those tough moments, you may want to keep some things in mind:

1. When your kid is having a tantrum, or acting crazy, a big stressor is "What'll other people think! Oh no! My kid is being loud and annoying people! They think I'm a bad parent! They're getting pissed." Actually, A LOT of people have kids, or little nieces and nephs, so more people will be more sympathetic than you think. Also, people who aren't understanding are just jerks. Really. Because even if they aren't parents, hopefully they can remember being kids themselves, and cranky or whatever, and sympathize with your kid..

2. The whole nasty diaper/potty training experience is relatively short in the entirety of your relationship with your kid. I mean, it only lasts about 3 1/2 years at most, and hopefully your relationship with your child will last a good 50 years. If your relationship lasts that long, maybe they will be helping you with your old-age incontinence (karma in action!!!).

3.Everybody has a "favorite age." Some people like widdle babies. Some toddlers, elementary school kids, or teens. Kids grow and change fast! Most moms (but not me) like the younger ages better. But most men like late elementary and teenagers better, because they are more interested in the outside worlds and careers. So, if things are tough right now, wait five minutes.

Parenting Part Deux

2006-02-27T05:53:00.001-08:00

While I have never heard a real adult say that having a child ruined his life--I have heard people say that divorce does, especially if there are children involved. Even if your spouse doesn't take you for all your worth through alimony and child support, you will have to deal with that person until your kids 'r done raised, and every big event in your kids' lives thereafter. Plus there is the guilt factor. I personally feel guilty that I wasn't strong enough to stay with my ex-. So guilty that I didn't even think about taking what's rightfully mine (my own stuff). I basically started out again with nothing.

And being a single parent is tough. There never seems to be enough money, and you are the only one doing the cooking, cleaning, etc. You are tired all the time. Even if you don't have custody, you have the burden of paying out every month without the pleasure of having your kids about.

Seeing as 50% of marriages end in divorce, I can't say that there is any one sure thing you can do to protect yourself, except to make sure that your spouse is sane and not addicted to anything from the get-go, and that you have the same ideas about how money should be spent (not sure you're in complete agreement? To check and make sure, look at any reference titles they may own. If they want to spend money on houses, there will be books on that. Vacations, travel books. And so on).

As soon as the word "commitment" is used, the relationship is over. Commitment is about "hanging in" and not hanging out. And we need someone we can hang out with on this journey. So, I guess that's the moral of part two: if you can find someone to hang out with, the kid-thing is a non-issue.

I have to say that being divorced is not without its fringe benefits: while married couples fight to find time and energy for sex, on the weekends my kid stays with his dad who he loves, while I get to have fabu-sex with the man I love. Talk about win-win. That's win-win-win.

Next: Parenting, Part Three: How come this isn't fun yet?

Parenthood Pt. 1

2006-02-18T08:45:00.001-08:00

Some men in their 30's have asked me about parenthood. They seem to think I'm a good person to ask, not only because I'm in my 30's and still love to go out and party, but also because I'm not one of those cutsie moms, who lives for that parental role.

First of all, let me say that I have never heard any man or woman over the age of 25, who was even meagerly established their careers, say that having a kid or two ruined their lives. It's a completely different life from being able to come and go as you please, yes. But it's not painful or bad or terrible (except for that giving birth part). In fact, if you can stand a little cheesy visual here, having a kid makes you feel like there's a new light on in your heart, and you never want it to go out.

Also, knowing that your kid is looking up to you, you may find the strength to do more for your career, be a better person all around, become grounded in a meaningful community, and grow as a person in general. More later.

Could ignorance be bliss?

2006-02-15T08:31:00.001-08:00

Today my boss tries to look up her dentist in the yellow pages, and ends up in E for "Escorts" instead. "They can put this stuff in the phone book!?!" she exclaimed. "Isn'tit illegal?!?"

"Only if they offer sex." I replied.

"Well, what is this then? This one offers role play. What's that?"

All these images of being tied up with leather thongs came into my head. I sighed and said, "I don't know."

If she only knew that you can call one of those services outside of Disney, and order up Sleeping Beauty. Or Belle. I wish I didn't.

Happy St. BJ's Day!!!

2006-02-12T18:54:00.001-08:00

For those of you who don't know, today was St. BJ's day, Feb. 12. St. BJ's is sort of the male version of St. Valentine's Day. Ladies, you can do this tomorrow still--St. BJ's isn't a well-publicized holiday yet. Here's what you do:

Put on your sexiest high heels and tight jeans or a pretty dress.
Make your guy a steak and potatoes meal (or his favorite meal), yes, while you wear high heels.
After dinner (and after, or possibly during) hockey, Olympics, basketball or whatever, get on your knees and give him a good, wet, cheek-enhollowing blowjob, until he comes.

Now, you may find this sexist, but St. BJ's day will definitely ensure a fantastic Valentine's Day. Believe me, you won't get dinner at a chain restaurant or heart-shaped sponges or a vaccuum cleaner after that.

sex on sight.

2006-01-30T13:22:00.001-08:00

The first thing I do when my boyfriend comes over is kiss him, and drag him to the bedroom. Sometimes we're so excited about getting our jeans off, we forget to take our shoes off first.

I recommend this highly. One good reason to have sex with your guy when he first comes over, is that horny men can say and do stupid things. That's a real turn-off for me...

Another good reason is to let off some steam yourself. Are you really going to spend your entire time just thinking about getting into bed the whole time? Or worse, not thinking about that, and getting cranky because you are just so damn horny?

The best reason is this: Sex on sight is just so plain hot. You've been waiting for this for a while, just letting loose as soon as you see each other leads some real earth shaking.

Review of MySpace

2006-01-24T09:12:00.001-08:00

The good thing about my space is that if you want to do more than blog, if you want to meet and network with people without reading random blog after random blog, you can do so. You can browse for "friends": people in whatever demographic/area/age etc. You can join blog groups and subscribe to blogs,without "blogrolling" etc.
You can look for people on blogger with the same interests as yourself by clicking on different words in your profile. However, I have never found anyone on blogger with the same interests as me listed--at least not in the same way.
I also like the counter on myspace: you can see how many people looked at your blog each day, week, etc. And other myspace members can subscribe to it.
Myspace also has craigslist style classifieds.
What I really don't like about it is that only myspace members can comment. It's common practice these days. They say its to control spam, I say its to get more members. Also, the thing is riddled with constant ads. I know I have one on my blog now, but its nothing compared to myspace. They flicker, too. It makes me want to have a "seizure" and "accidentally" destroy my computer.
Will I come back to love-suki? Maybe. The myspace people are kind of young, and don't all blog, and I don't get comments from non-myspacers, which is kinda annoying.

New Year, New Blog.

2005-12-31T09:32:00.001-08:00

In the tradition of moving more than once a year, I've moved:

My URL:
http://www.myspace.com/happy_lucky_suki

My Blog URL:
http://blog.myspace.com/happy_lucky_suki

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!!!

Growing Up Crazy.

2005-12-20T09:36:00.001-08:00

Remember when you were a child or teenager, and you thought that all adults were out of their minds? I mean, there's the smoochie aunt or the drunk uncle or the mallrat mom and the golf-mad dad. The science fiction fan cousin who walked around with a propellor beanie? How about that wacky vegan who has to bring her own food everywhere, and make everyone feel bad about eating turkey on Thanksgiving?

Did you think they were all nuts? They were.

I am pretty sure now, that when one grows up, part of it is becoming completely crazy. I have refused to do it so far--I'm 34 now--but I don't think I'll be able to hold off for much longer. For a little while I thought I was going to be able to choose what kind of crazy I was--shall I be a voracious and compulsive shopper like my mom or a workaholic like my dad? Shall I be one of those crazy creative types--who is completely unstable and disagreeable, except for the fact that they write or paint sometimes.

The other day I was reading a great book called The Midnight Disease, which is about hypergraphia, and what it means to writer's block. (I've had writer's block for quite some time. I was never very prolific in the first place--not with what I consider "real writing" anyway. Real writing is novels, screenplays, short stories, articles, etc., anything that one would show an editor, anything one could sell.) Hypergraphia is a "mental illness" where one compulsively writes. Dostoevsky had it, and so did a number of other famous and prolific writers from around the world. And poets. It can be caused by epilepsy in the temporal lobe, or by manic-depression. The book was written by a woman who was in a mental institution, and surrounded by writers. She decided that one needs to be a little crazy to write. Duh.

I really don't think I have any choice in the kind of crazy I shall be. I shall be one of those cranky artists, I believe. The stereotypes are true--oversexed and drunk and lazy and agitated. Yeah, it sounds interesting and all, but it's not that fun. I really don't want my nuttiness to hurt other people, like mom's and dad's hurt me. But I don't think I really have much choice in the matter.

What kind of crazy will you be when you grow up? Comments welcome.

Reproducibility

2005-12-10T03:29:00.001-08:00

My dad, an engineer, always got on my case about reproducibility and consistency in my art and writing when I was a kid. He would basically tell me that if I couldn't make work of the same quality and style over and over again that I was not a real artist and writer, my stuff would never be salable--I would never be paid for my work.
That is probably not a fair standard for a child or teen, who is exploring different media, learning how it all works, and making mistakes.
Having been in editorial, I have to say it is true in the adult world of writing and illustration. You basically have to be able to churn out the same good stuff in the same style over and over again--give them what they bought or thought they bought when they saw your samples.
I remember one day at Marvel we got in some pages from an artist, and the editor flipped out. He was pink with rage--which was very difficult as he was a dark Italian man--and on the phone immediately. "I paid you to draw like you!" he yelled, "and not practice being Steve Ditko ON MY TIME!" I looked at the art--it did look like Ditko had done it, and not like the rest of the book.
The same is true for editorial, of course. Readers come back to see the same thing all the time, and at the same intervals. I probably lost many readers when I was unable to write a daily blog anymore. And I probably lost even more when I switched from consistently writing about sex and love to other things. But what can I do? My work has always been a reflection of my feelings and my exploration of the world. I wonder how Charles Burns or Matt Groenig thinks about his work that makes him able to consistently churn out the same stuff?

2005-11-30T07:14:00.001-08:00

Classmates.com is not for people hold grudges. I just look at those ads and think, well, if you didn't want to hang out with me then, why would you want to hang out with me now? Because you're a salesman?

I only dated one guy from my high school. Actually, "dated" is too strong a word. We had sex in a field a few times. That's it. All it gave me was a strong affinity for certain kinds of moss.

I was the weird girl at my school. I was unapologetic about having lots of partners from other schools and grown-up partners, when I turned sexy at 16 years old. It was an abrupt change. I went from being a frumpy, attempting-to-be-preppy girl as a sophomore, to a very sexy, if suicidal, girl as a junior. I was unapologetic about my suicidal tendencies too--but they didn't lock me in an institution. My parents had to send me to therapy though, or social services was going to take me away from them.

I should be a grown-up and forgive all the kids who shunned me. They were probably just terrified. Right.

Update.

2005-11-29T06:41:00.001-08:00

I got back with my old boyfriend. My last one. The editor Drongo, who can look a little like a woodland fawn aspect of Satan. I did it because he promised me he would be a better man, a true partner to me. I also did it because I miserable without him. I was in no shape to be with everyone else. I cried daily, often on the ferry ride home from work.

I am sick and tired of "love" or the finding of it, anyway.

Onto the next adventure.

The apple doesn't fall far enough from the...

2005-11-19T16:44:00.001-08:00

My mom came to visit me. Yes, I do have a mother. She was, in her day, far more sexy and adventurous than me: she looked like a combination of Kim Novak in "Bell, Book and Candle" and that chic from the Avengers (which one? the more sexy, powerful looking one of course) and took a tour of the iron curtain countries in the early 1960's. Well, anyways, everyone loves her, because she is so sweet and giving and eccentric, but of course, she is very hard to endure--I mean live with, for those of us close to her.
I won't go into the bamboo incident or the thistle crisis here, but I have often wished I was her neighbor, rather than her daughter, so I could appreciate her like everyone else does.
Anyway, she collects ugly things in her home: skulls of animals, cheap and ugly busts of witches, long-armed monkey tie racks. In fact, itwas the purchase of the long-armed brass monkey tie rack with plastic emerald eyes that I first questioned. My mom hung it up at eye level on a door molding about 22 years ago--and I asked her why she bought it--not why she hung it there, for every square inch of her home was covered with other ugly stuff-- and she turned to me and said in a drunken roar, "I bought it because it was ugly."
I never understood what she was going after until today, when I almost bought an ugly clock with a red rooster on the face. I almost bought it because it was ugly--and the most interesting thing in the store.

The New Misogyny

2005-11-10T03:36:00.001-08:00

So, I'm reading the Caleb Carr book, Killing Time, and while it is interesting--about conspiracy theory from the conspirator's point-of-view--it has one of the worst-written women in history, outside of a comic book.

Literally, the woman acts like a guy with tits and ass. Now, she is supposed to be emotionally disturbed from being used as a sextoy as a prepubescent, but even those chics act in certain ways. They've been documented extensively.

This book is a little dry emotionally, anyway, but still...

The new misogyny shows women in all these action roles: hitting, shooting, and fucking like men. Gee, isn't this great? Women can do anything men can do!

It's not great. Women can do anything men can do, physically, but there is never a ponderance of the mystery that is woman--the moods, the tenderness, the tolerance, the fragility in the strength. It seems like the hip thing to do is forget about it or explain it all away psychologically, and that is a denial of woman most chilling.

Why She Chose the Guy on the Bar Stool Next to You

2005-11-10T03:33:00.001-08:00

"What men fail to understand is why one woman will
choose one man over another--emotionally--where for
them, one is basically as good as another. And the
pain of that rejection is what manifests as much of
the evil in this world."

My friend Cheri said that to me one day. It is really
simple, and I think I'm even paraphrasing something I
heard in a Woody Allen movie once:

"We're all neurotic. Love is when one person's
neurosis fits another's like puzzle pieces."

Or, to put it another way: all women are crazy; each
one needs to find a man who will not only interfere
with, but encourage her insanity.
(My god, I should be so lucky!)

And that's why she passed you up. pal.

W4M: What I learned about newyork.craigslist.org

2005-10-30T06:02:00.001-08:00

I have been putting scads and scads of ads on cl, here in New York, all of them different. It's been a way to run away from a painful break up, I guess. My friend HellKitten accused me of trying to fuck the pain out of my system, but that's not true. I have rigid schedule and limited free time, due to my son's schedule. Out of all of this, I have gotten a lot of email chat, a two-date sex partner (with promise of a third), one new writing partner, a singles buddy, and couple of introductions that I should have just ended much more quickly. Isn't that enough, you say? Well, I still haven't met the love of my life yet, and I am shooting for the moon here.

Let me say that first of all, because of my limited schedule, and because telling the same intro stories over and over again bores the FUCK out of me (oh, yeah, and I am bored of me. I have been hanging out with me for 34 years now, and you know, that's one of the reasons I like company so much), I only meet one person per ad. I take down an ad after I get 20 or 30 responses, b/c cl is really time-sensitive. It's just a great long list, and people just don't go through the whole thing. Ever. And how many responses do I need? Only one good one.

What different ads got me.
ALL my ads got me a whole bunch of guys who sent pics with just a "hey how are you send me your pic" I think a lot of guys just blanket respond to cl ads. I immediately deleted all of those. No, I did not look at their pics. I look at it this way: if I took the time to write a real ad, why would I want to look at a respondent who didn't take the time to read it?

ALL my ads got me a whole lot of "almost" guys. As in, I wrote looking for a guy in is late 30's early 40's, and I got a lot of interesting guys in the wrong age bracket, or not so interesting queries like, "i'm in my 50's, is that ok?" No, it's not okay. OK, well, my sex partner is in his 50's, but he is probably one of the smartest people I'll meet in this lifetime, and hopefully a good friend I can keep later on. That guy really responded to my ad.

I wrote my first ad the day I broke up with my boyfriend. I had been crying for hours, and I was sick of hearing myself wail into my pillow! I needed to make myself laugh, to interact with other people. This is what it looked like:

Ad No. 1
4th Place in the InterGalactic Genitalia Manipulation Trials
Sorry, no pic. My phosphorescent skin is not radioactive, but does wreck camera equipment. Very popular on the rock I am from: both of my eyes have navy blue corneas with lavendar irises--6 breasts, with the smallest on top, and largest on bottom. I am short for my race at a mere six (of your feet) tall. Two arms, two legs, four dorsal tentacles.
Came in fourth place in the intergalactic genitalia manipulation trials--like your famous words "Cuddabinnacontendah"
Seeking a bright middle-aged male of the human species, possibly with a media or engineering background to help me understand how your sexual rituals and organs work in this heavy atmosphere, and Paris Hilton's rise to power. If it has anything to do with fellatio, I should do very well on this planet.

What I got: A lot of comic one-upmanship (I really didn't like that they couldn't play the straight man for one second, and let me be funny for one second. Deleted. A lot of Star Trek and Douglas Adams references, also deleted, because they never had a character like that in either series, which I also was not referencing. A lot of people who didn't realize that "A Streetcar Named Desire" was rerun almost every week in the '70s and it would've taken time to get that transmission out in space. (Are you thinking I'm a hard-ass? Intelligence is what I look for in a man. Instead of looking for the guy with the biggest muscles, or the biggest trailer in the trailer park, I look for smart guys. Which is why like personals. I can weed the average out so quickly this way.)

What I decided to meet: a kinky patent attorney, who is working on a screenplay, because he could play the straight man.

Result: No chemistry.

Ad No. 2

36DD Seeks Media-Savvy, Smart=Alecky Squeeze
A friend asked me the other day, "Are you looking for someone who you can have hot, kinky sex with, or someone who will be your partner and take care of you and your son?"
Why is one exclusive of the other? Why can't mom and dad lock the door and fek like porn stars?
I'd like to say at this point that I'm not so wackjob looking to get married right away, or one of those near-whores looking for some financial arrangement. But that dichotomy gets in the way of any possibility of a long-term relationship, and it doesn't come up in casual conversation.
I would also like to be with someone who has a personal code of ethics (no, you don't have to have written it out).
Are you still with me?
Ok, now only the cool people are left.
Me: I’m 35 y.o. divorced mom (gee, wonder what happened there?) w/ a 3 y.o., 5'4", 36DD, bleached blond/corporate bob hair, green eyes, pale. I’m a size 12, which means I am half way between real skinny and a big house. If you like roller blading, wind surfing, and sports, I’m not the gal for you. I’m pretty mellow about most things, but fairly serious about my feng shui. Sure, you can stay out all night with the guys, but don’t you dare move my candles!
You: Energetic, confident, intelligent, media-savvy,know what you want, with a nice sized media collection. Taller than 5’ 7”, and no bigger than Jack Black.
What we do together: See bands! I like seeing rockabilly and punk bands. I’m a big fan of Simon and the Bar Sinisters, Barbecue Bob and the Spare Ribs, and Ween. Watch movies! I love psychotronics, weird movies, B movies, and action flicks. Dissect media and news events on tv. Oh, yeah, after we get to know each other a bit, and fuck like porn stars.

What I got: Well, last year I got a really big love out of a very similar ad, so I decided to send it out again. I got a lot of people really hounding me over and over again for pics. (Big surprise. I wonder how many men go to personals looking for jerk off material.) But some interesting men in education and the music industry answered this ad. It attracts powerful men. One hate letter, only, blogged previously.

What I decided to meet: A musician, a special ed teacher, and an exec.

Result: The musician and I just couldn't get our scheds together, so I let it go.
The special ed guy was real cute, but lived too far away (an almost man), so I ended up cancelling our second date. I've been out twice with the exec--we have hot sex, and he's very smart, but I feel like he's patronizing me. I'll deal with that later.

Ad No. 3
February 1, 1962
Seek man. Write to me.

I know astrology. So sue me! Meeting someone who was born that day would have been a good match for me.

What I got: A whole lot of chat with a whole lot of almost men. And men who were just puzzled by the date.

Who I met: None. I almost met an almost man who works near me, but we had conflicting scheds.

Ad No. 4

I put an ad in looking for someone to write stories with me, under "strictly platonic". I got a couple of pleasant responses, and then forgot it was up. Several days later, a nice guy wrote to me. We're working on the stories now. He writes faster than I do. We'll see how this goes.

Ad No. 5
Are there any intelligent men on Staten Island?Where would I find one? I just moved here, so... someone fill me in.
I think a lot, and I like guys that think. A lot.

What I got: A whole lot of smart, otherwise almost men in Manh. telling me I had to commute to them, a lot of guys hoping they were smart, a journalist for the SI paper, and a cop.

Who I met: No one yet. I'm liking the cop and the journalist, though.

A continuing story...

Recommendations, I think are obvious:
If you just want to chat, just put an ad, saying, "hey, write to me!" anywhere on w4m on cl.
If you want to meet some people who will really turn you on, and have some good dates, spend some time writing a good, no-nonsense ad, be specific; and don't bother with any almost respondents--nip all the bs and nicey-nice in the bud. It will only slow you down.
Don't ask directly for any high quality you are looking for: like, definitely do not ask for smart (or muscular or moneyed or creative) because you'll get way, way too many almost men, or people who just think, or would like to think they have that quality you're looking for. You would be far better off just writing about your specific interests or issues that you know about: if you want someone who works out a lot, you'd catch much more attention from guys who actually do it if you say, "It kills me to see this girl doing curls with barbells she can barely hold." or if you want someone who thinks, say, "I think ethically, and I'm looking for someone who does the same." All the fake will be put off by this, and all the real deals will be more interested.

Overheard: More Common Than You Think

2005-10-30T05:53:00.001-08:00

Woman1: How did your date go?
Woman2: It was great! He's great in bed.
W1: You porked him already? On the first date?
W2: Yeah. So?
W1: So you shouldn't have!
W2: Why not? What would be different if I had waited?
W1: You don't know?
W2: No, I've never not done it on the first date.
W1: Me either. I just sometimes wish I hadn't done it later. That's all.

The Filth

2005-10-29T06:24:00.001-07:00

So, I told my friend I was reading the Filth, and he said, "Oh, I was working on that book! I'm convinced that Grant Morrison was tripping the entire time he was writing it, and even the artist couldn't figure out what it was about!"

Me, with my wacky history of dream interpretation and oh, yeah, acid tripping, decided to take that as a challenge.

On the surface of this comic, if you can find one, is a plot line about Ned Slade, a retired member of "The Hand" --a supersecret paramilitary group that wanks the world off when it needs it, and wipes the world's ass when it needs that too--who must come back to work to deal with supreme "anti-persons" who call themselves Tex Porneau and Spartacus Hughes. But Ned seems confused about who he is--one subplot is that there is a second Ned--and almost completely ineffectual. His ass is constantly saved by a hot chic with a green afro, and an angry Soviet chimpanzee.

A lot of characters and details come and go, and do not seem important to the story as a whole, but the important fragments of this dream are:

The Ultra-Humanitarian sequence: one of the superhero characters flies off the 2 dimensional page, and finds his sexuality
The Dimension of Vile Shit and Porn that ages you to the point of death sequence.
LaPen that rules all
Slade's love of the cat
Slade's job to wipe the world's ass, and simply maintain a very low "Status Q" status quo for the world, and not make it a better place.

Okay, from this evidence--and my own experience in comics-- I maintain that "The Filth" is about the comic book business, and Morrison's urge to grow artistically out of it. The reason I believe this is that the comics biz has an enforced low status quo, writers are frequently forced to clean up story lines generated by editorial staff meetings, and that shooting this low and becoming a hack (at one point plots come automatically from both LaPen and a character that channels plots) puts our main character at risk of growing old before his time (in the vile shit dimension). The only things that make him feel human and above this shit are in the framework outside the Ned Slade/Hand reality: the love of the cat, and the capability to create something to improve mankind (which Slade never actually does).

I felt Filthy after reading it. And during reading it. Did its job. I need a shower.

Harmless

2005-10-24T18:49:00.001-07:00

When I was about 12 years old, after I had gotten over my crush on obviously gay, muscular calendar boys, and my painful puppy love of Alan Alda (I had written a heartfelt fan letter, and had gotten only his autograph STAMPED on postcard bearing his face in return), I had my first crush on a slim, fortyish man with small, gold-rimmed glasses, and a receding hair line. He was the financial analyst that the local news interviewed at about 6:40 am. My heart was throbbing.

My mom, seeing me trying to climb into the to the kitchen table’s tv screen says, “Him? He looks harmless.”

Not even knowing what a hard-on was at the time, I did not know what she was talking about.

Now, as experienced as I am, I still do not know what she was talking about. I mean, if harmless means that these people are not going to try to date rape you, you’d think they’d be snapped up in seconds, and never single. Ever. But we all know the truth.

There is a horrifying myth that nice guys whose foreheads are large, and not sloping, who did not have to go to college to evolve opposable thumbs, are “good” and don’t like sex. And if they do, they’re somehow pervier than the primitive screwheads who are out and about playing grab-ass. (Compare in your mind Paul Rubens aka Pee Wee Herman at a porn movie theater vs. that asshole who just spent 241G’s at Scores.)

I want to fill all the chics in the world out there on something: AAAAAAAAAAALLLLLL guys like sex. Every single one. Wants. To. Stick. His. Cock. Into. Something. Hot. And. Wet. I am serious. Young, old, fat, skinny, toned, geeky, narcissistic, rich, poor. The president? Yes. The homeless guy? Yes.

The really smart financial analyst in the suit and glasses? Yes. And I really have to take a moment to sing the praises of being in bed with a smart and nice guy. First of all, all guys think about sex much of the time. Smart guys have much more going on up there than dumb ones, and so I actually think that they are able to think about sex, and manage everything else they have to get by during the day at the same time, where as dumber ones can only think about one thing at a time. Got that? Okay. So smart guys think about sex more, really, can come up with more creative ideas of how they want to fuck, more fantasies, etc., etc. Which doesn’t have to be sick and fetishy. Just interesting.

The other thing about these guys being nice is that they think about pleasing you in bed. Fan…tas…tic… Smart guys can really eat pussy. And finger fuck you to high heaven. And pretty much do whatever you want in bed. They have, as I like to think, the engineering.

The only thing these guys slip-up on is a tendency to over-think the situation—that situation of actually getting a girl into bed for all the fun stuff. I think this is where the “harmless” myth comes from. They can feel the urge to drag a girl home by the hair as well as any man, but they worry about saying something that sounds sleazy or stupid or boorish. I say, just say it. Go for it. I mean, the poor girl is probably waiting for you. Or just start touching her and see what she does. Really. Just blow the harmless myth to smithereens.

The Politics of Jerking Off

2005-10-15T10:50:00.001-07:00

I am going to say right here and now that I have too much respect for my dates, and too much self-respect to make this journal a chronicle of my romantic adventures. But, when I learn something new about the human condition, I will share it in a general way, like I always do.
One thing I learned about, recently, is about men who bring up “jerking off” in polite conversation, i.e., “Today I was horny, so I jerked off; then I did the dishes and watched the World Series. What did you do today?”
It’s my opinion that I really didn’t need to hear about the first part. I really did not need to picture this guy masturbating. Not that he was a bad looking guy, but…I think that masturbation means different things to men and women. A guy likes to hear that women are touching themselves. It says to them, “these chics need me! They need my cock! I’ll be right there!”
But when a woman pictures a man masturbating, alone in his room, it’s a different story altogether. Even if she accepts that everyone masturbates, it still has some negative connotations:
First of all, she’s probably sure he was thinking of some model, bimbo, movie star, or high school sweetheart, so she may feel a little rejected. Even if she barely knows the guy, and that’s not the case, a veneer of dignity is removed: nothing spells unwanted like a guy jerking off in his room, surrounded by half-empty beer cans and cigarette ash. Remember, chics want guys that other chics want. That’s why there is such a thing as a wing-girl at a party.
There are good times to talk about masturbation, like while you are having mutual-masturbation fun with your gal; or she’s touching you, and you want to show her something different; you had a special fantasy about your girl you just had to; or an intense story from your youth. Otherwise, your fat wiener had better have something to do with your story, and it should be exciting, like, “So I was masturbating in the bedroom, and someone let the German Shepherd in, and he pushed the door open—I think it thought my dick was a hotdog…”

But what?

2005-10-11T13:54:00.001-07:00

So, I broke up with the man a week ago, and I'm already starting to go out.

You might say, "If she loved that guy so much, how can she already be going out? Shouldn't there be a grieving period, or something? Shouldn't she be trying to heal, or learn who she is again, or whatever? Isn't this a little cold-blooded?"

I have been through this before. This breaking-up-with-the-one-I-love-because-we-are-on-different-paths thing, and I am going to tell you something: I don't believe in healing or closure, or any of that Oprah-esque bullshit. It took me ten years to "get over" M__, and really I'll never be over it. Nobody "gets over" anything or anyone. We just ingest it, and let the pain become part of us, we find ways not to feel it anymore.

I will never stop loving Drongo. The wound from this will never "go away." But I am not going to sit here and cry for the rest of my life. Just feel the pain, and keep going.Every damn day. One day, I'll be so used to it, I won't even notice...

Personals Adventure Pt. 1

2005-10-09T17:56:00.001-07:00

God, are you a disgusting slut. No wonder you're a single mom!
_________________________________

The only "path" you follow is being a slut flaunting her big tits!
You got your choice of guys every fucking day, you walking blowjob.

How about a blog about you SHUTTING THE FUCK UP!

_________________________________

You deserve it, you little slut!
_________________________________

These comments are from a nasty respondent to my “36DD seeks media-savvy, smart-alecky squeeze” ad. I tried to explain to him that in real life, this is what men would notice about me, that actually they are larger, but I didn’t want to freak anyone out, and I’m actually a normal girl, just endowed. I sent him a link to my blog, and went home.

I don’t use my computer at home on the weekdays, because I have a kid who likes to play with—aka break—it. So I came back to work the next day, and found his pic, and these “anonymous” comments on my blog. I guess he thought I had rejected his photo/info or whatever, and wanted revenge.

Of course his fear of rejection brought on his rejection. I only go out with nice guys. That's one reason I like personals: you can learn a lot about the interior of the person first...

I feel very bad for this person. He’s painfully alone. He thinks he’s not good enough—and the reason I say this is his “choice of guys” comment. I hope that he learns to feel better about himself, and finds the right person. He is good for someone out there…

Back on the Market

2005-10-03T11:18:00.001-07:00

Split up with my guy on Saturday.

Basically, we were on the same or similar path for a while, and then we grew apart.

Ah, well. That is the way it goes.

On to the next adventure!

Office Love Pt. 3

2005-10-01T07:59:00.001-07:00

M_ was about 6' tall, but his curly, bleached corporate mohawk/mullet put him about 6'3. I recognized him from around the office. I said I had tried to say hi when I saw him pass, but he said he probably hadn't noticed because he was running to the library to do cocaine.
The big "test" the first day was a "Bates Motel" towel in the bathroom. Having dried my hands on it, I came out of the bathroom to say that I had just made a Bates Motel shower curtain for my mom over the summer. At that moment I was designated a "keeper." And I was at their place every weekend.

We watched video from their huge collection. They tried to convince me to love Star Trek. It was basically a tv party all weekend long, peppered with sex games between me and my boyfriend. But M__ and I started talking and laughing. Our eyes locked more and more often. And while we both liked his roomie, we both quietly agreed he was a bit of a fool. Then he got tickets to see Dennis Leary on the same night as Star Trek 6 would open. He asked me to go, he said, so that there was no way anyone could convince to go see that dumb movie on opening night. I said I'd go with him, as friends.

But the magnetic pull was too strong. One night, our eyes locked once again. M__ sent his roomie out for cat food. Once his roomie was out the door, I stood next to his chair, and put my hands on his shoulders. He reached up, and touched my face. I leaned down and we kissed.

Two minutes later we were making decisions. I would have to tell his roomie it was over. He would have to get his roomie drunk. I would have to end it with my other boyfriends at work too. (I didn't mention them? They were nice guys, but not important to this story).

When the roomie came back, I took him to his room, and we sat cross-legged on his bed, facing each other. I said something like, "It's hard for me to tell you this, but me and M_ decided we want to be together."

And he said, "Oh, that's okay. We can share you. I'm open to that."

I was so shocked, I think my mind shut down for a second. I said, "No, I mean, we really like each other, and we really want to be together--just us."

M_ walked me to the train. I called my friend, Charles, and told him I was upset. Charles came over, and I cried on his shoulder, and asked himif I did the right thing. Charles took me by the shoulders, and said, "I am Spock of this situation, and you did the right thing."

M_ turned out to be the love of my life, and we were together for 2.5 years. It took me ten years and two ex-husbands to get over the guy. How did I know I was over him? Just a gut feeling that my travels were over, and like Odysseus I had made it home.

Office Love Pt. 2

2005-09-29T14:00:00.001-07:00

Charles did not get an internship at that company, and we thought the best way to get revenge would be for me to sleep my way to the top, and take control of the company, and hire him as a writer. Right. But we did go shopping, and buy a pair of ankle high stiletto boots for me, and I did wear a miniskirt to the office every day.

It did not take long before some assistant editors and paste up guys started asking me to go to lunch with them. Sometimes they simply stood in the doorway and stare at me—to which my boss said, “What? What? Why are you standing there?”

And they said, “Is she busy for lunch?” thus sealing my fate at that office forever.

“How do I know? I don’t keep her social calendar!” He later told me that moment kept him from hiring me as his new assistant editor—I was too much trouble.

The next thing I knew, I was on an outing with them to see Robot Monster in 3-D. Still horny and feeling “friendly”, I asked if anyone wanted to go out for coffee with me afterward, and only one guy said yes. He kind of looked like Howard Stern; very long curly hair, little round glasses, naïve blue eyes, thirties. It turned out he worked for the same company, on a different floor. I took him home with me that night, but it was so unmemorable I did not recognize his voice when he called the next day.

He courted me anyway. And having nothing better to do, I went over his house. As we walked over there from the train station, he pointed out the three-story place with dirty pink siding against a gray sky. When I saw that one window had a zebra print sheet for a shade, I thought, maybe this guy is cooler than he seems. But no, that was not his window, but his roommate’s.

Believe me, I was anxious to meet his roommate.

And I was not disappointed…

Office Love Pt. 1

2005-09-24T19:37:00.001-07:00

Seeing as my last post was about sexual harassment, I thought I'd balance out with a good office love story.

It was September, 1991. I don’t know what the big news story was back then, because I was in college, and even though I was in the middle of New York City, in a seriously politically active school, I was busy wrapped up in my own little world of classes, avoiding my stalker ex-boyfriend, and trying to get laid. I didn’t have a tv, either. My main source of entertainment was my tape player, and a mix tape of punk bands that was growing more corrupted by the day.

Now, the main thing about me getting laid, being all cute and hot and 20 years old with long red hair and stuff, is that I am kind of reserved. I never did walk up to a guy and say, “Wanna get laid?” like some kind of hooker, or dance like I was fucking the air, or do anything more flirtatious than flip my hair. The second thing about me, which I learned through painful experiences in high school, is that only a certain kind of guy really digs me. For me, the big telltale signs if a guy is my type, outside of an intelligent looking face, have always been casual clothing with black boots and a four-month-old haircut.

I was a junior, and I had the feeling it was internship time. At the end of my sophomore year, I had planned to start a radio show on WBAI, and some people were interested in working on the thing. But before I could get started on that, my friend Charles called me, and said, “Hey, I was thinking of doing an internship at this comic book company. D’ya want to come?” I guess he was feeling a little daunted. So I said sure. I dressed up in a little business bitch uniform—red long sleeve shirt and a houndstooth miniskirt with black heels—and went to support my friend.

The next thing I knew, I was standing in front of a desk waiting for someone to find me a boss to interview with. I was looking at the “bullpen” a wide-open space full of drawing tables, and tall, good looking men with intelligent faces and four-month-old haircuts and rock’n’roll t-shirts.

This job got me right by the panties. I don’t even remember the interview, just that they asked me some questions, and asked me what days I could work. At that moment, the radio show was forgotten.

More later.

2005-09-16T06:42:00.001-07:00

And so, I’ve been looking for work. My boyfriend, hearing that I would be applying at some certain corporation, worries that I would be sexually harassed. “I’m used to it,” I replied, “I’m a pretty girl.”

Here are the “best” occasions of sexual harassment that I have personally experienced.

1. During the interview, the interviewer openly stared at my chest and licked his lips. Repeatedly.
2. When I asked my boss why he hired me, he said, “Are you kidding? I couldn’t let a piece of ass like you walk out my door.”
3. On my first day of an internship at another certain corporation, a short, mustachioed admin assistant invited me into one of the offices, and asked me, “What’s the wildest thing you’ve ever done?” I said, “What do you mean, like skydiving?” He said, “The wildest thing I’ve ever done is have sex with a beautiful blond intern on a desk.”
4. At my first job when I was seventeen, a twenty-five year old co-worker gave me a hug in the basement (which I welcomed), but then he rubbed his hips on me (just half a second), and came. How embarrassing.
5. While I was standing next to a co-worker I thought was my friend, in front of the entire accounting department, he said, “You know what she does all weekend? Have sex! For hours!”
6. One of my bosses at some certain company made me listen to Howard Stern every day, and when it was over, he would tell me that I should break up with my boyfriend and be with him instead. Daily. And when I would say no, daily, he would give me a hard time about something—until I was in tears. This stopped after a few months.

Okay, so there are only six here, but you know, I didn’t want to repeat any work locations or any repeat people. That would be cheating. Ha.

I LOST MY JOB.

2005-09-01T09:47:00.001-07:00

And I am a very cool, laid-back, but hard-working admin assistant. I can do just about anything in MS Office Suite, answer the phone, and make travel plans.
Send me a comment, and I'll send you a resume.

Love's Big Bait n' Switch

2005-08-29T08:13:00.001-07:00

I have to say I have a pretty good game of seduction going. I enjoy it. I know the rules enough to play by them or ignore them. And it’s one of those things I don’t lose even after “I got him” or whatever, because it’s just plain fun. Like a hobby.

Okay, enough on that. What I want to say, is even though I am great with romance and seduction, I am really stupid about people. Here is something that everyone seems to know and be okay with except for me:

After they think they have you, the energy is gone; the romance is gone; and the weirdness begins. Men complain that the blow jobs are over. Women complain that the guys don’t take them out anymore. People start acting like their parents, or like the other person in the relationship should be their parent—way too Oedipal for me, thanks.

I don’t understand why this bait n’ switch is considered okay by anyone. I mean, what happens? We just get in so deep that we decide that we’re stuck with this person? Do both people switch to “got you, can forget you” mode simultaneously? Is it part of the hard-wiring that has something to do with propagating our species? Or are people just lazy?

I Can't Believe No One Responded To This

2005-08-26T08:40:00.001-07:00

Desperately seeking Weird Friends on Staten Island - w4mw - 34

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: anon-93082147@craigslist.org
Date: 2005-08-24, 11:18AM EDT

How do you know you are weird enough to hang out with the likes of me and my few weird friends?

*You feel like you are normal, but everyone else calls you weird. You may find "norms" fascinating or scary.
*You like music that no one you know seems to like.
*You can't talk a lot about your past to the norms around the office.
*You have done things most people read about in books.
*You don't like that weirdness, tattoos, irony, and everything you thought cool is now "trendy".

I'm 34 with a 3 y.o. son, 6 months in S.I. I like Ween, and their song "mutilated lips" gives me ecstacy flashbacks. I am very rock n' roll, but softspoken about it. I like rockabilly, punk, and weird stuff. When I had cable, I watched Industrial TV--and I like psychotronics, Roger Corman, anime, etc. I paint portraits. I worship ancient greek gods, and I am serious considering a career change to priestess of same.

I just made some file folder labels at work that said "Disappointed in Life" (for the hanging file) with more files that said, "Long Commute" "Little Free Time" "Not Near My Friends". For more about me you can visit my blog http://love-suki.blogspot.com.

Watch out guys! I already have a weird boyfriend. He reads books about headhunters around the world.

this is in or around North Shore

no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

93082147

Weekend of Fun

2005-08-26T07:11:00.001-07:00

Tonight at Liedy's Shore Inn, I will be performing the kareoke, probably sometime around one ayem. I like to sing Stones, Beatles (esp. Come Together) and Boom Boom Boom.

Location of Liedy's

Kareoke at Liedy's starts at 10pee-em. Hope to see you there!

Sunday

Drongo will be host and DeeJay at his Scratchy Rekkid Party at 3pm at The Sidestreet Saloon

It will be Rock n' Roll, Rockabilly, and Punk favorites--plus guess the mystery rekkid. All while we get boozled! C'mon on down!!! Come early and often!!! (How many girls say that to you?) I will be there, early, kickin' it. See ya there!

A How-We-Met Story

2005-08-24T09:12:00.001-07:00

>>>This is how Drongo and I met, about one year ago this week. I was scanning cl personals, and they all said the same thing, "Great body, work out 3 days a week. Professional. Read, movies, watch TV," blahblah blah. I remember when personals were interesting, you couldn't attach a photo, and fun to read. Angry about the lost art, I wrote the following, not thinking I'd ever actually meet anyone:

38DD seeks Smart-Alecky Media-Savvy Squeeze (33)

The first thing I want to know is, if all of you are so good looking, why aren’t you out at a bar getting laid?

Also, I have a two year old boy, and he is my first priority. If you can’t handle that, don’t bother reading on.

Me: I’m 33, 5'4", 38DD, bleached blond/rock n’ roll hair, green eyes, pale. I’m a size 12, which means I am half way between real skinny and a big house. If you like roller blading, wind surfing, and sports, I’m not the gal for you. I’m pretty mellow about most things, but fairly serious about my feng shui. Sure, you can stay out all night with the guys, but don’t you dare move my candles! I like sex a lot and often, and enjoy some fantasy, after we get to know eachother a bit.

You: Energetic, Taller than 5’ 7”, and no bigger than Jack Black. If you are balding, I only like buzzed heads (and if you don’t know why this is, write to me, and I will tell you).

What we do together: See bands! I like seeing rockabilly and punk bands. I’m a big fan of Simon and the Bar Sinisters, Barbecue Bob and the Spare Ribs, and Ween. Watch movies! I love psychotronics, weird movies, B movies, and action flicks.

This is very different ad from the others I have seen on this site. Am I asking for too much?

Drongo's response:

Drongo Zone wrote:
Hi
I think you are a realist. I think most women on CL split hairs and are too specific in their unrealistic "wants." I understand the kid thing (I've got 2), but I hate when they say "You MUST love dogs. You MUST love MY dog." For chrissakes, I'm taking YOU out, not some dang critter.

Anyway, I do like your ad. Here, glom this about me: This native new yorker complete with an accent deals in words--I write, but bring home the bacon by being a big-shot editorial manager at a big-time Wall St financial info firm. I'm the "energy" guy, so if you ever need to know about "POWER" or "MEGAWATTAGE," then, I am your man. I love movies but don't go much. And not your usual Hollywood crap either. The other night I watched this weird Chinese one about Mongols returning from defeat at the hands of the Russians. It involved a gypsy woman and her perfoming monkey/confidant, and this Mongol on a horse who slew dozens of pursuers by throwing these sharp things that cut off their heads or took a leg off a horse. Right up your alley, no?

Sex early and often is a good thing. The fantasy thing is something I have enjoyed in the past. Not only do you explode into outer space via the sexual energy, you can get out of yourself for a bit too. I dig ethnic dining, nature, my blogs. I get on a bike and ride it sometimes. I sing the rock & roll music.

I sometimes host a Scratchy Record Party at my local where i play 45s from the 50s through the 80s. Real rock & roll--not "oldies". I listen to tribal sounds from around the world. I am an amateur anthropologist and amateur criminologist. I collect books on strange and unusual subjects and can spend half a day poking around a used book store. I'm smart and I know a lot of things, as well. I read all the effin' time, from The New Yorker and the Wall Street Journal to hard-boiled crime fiction. I write about weird people getting into weird situations and have even tackled the eeeeeeerotic-a. Lemmee know if you want to read a short short story I wrote about tattoos and feng shui gone all awry--take you 5 minutes to read. I'm a "young" 45, long-haired at the moment, slim, green eyed 5'10" 160, bespectacled. Oh yeah--they say say I have a nice bum. haha. I have some old pics--lemmme know if you want to see the "biker" pic or the "tourist on a Greek island" pic.
Later you
John

>>>I read his response outloud to my roomie, where I translated "scratchy record party" into "I am a Bob Seger fan" and thought that he was actually a janitor in one of the big buildings downtown with a column in the monthly co. newsletter. When actually, he's a serious rockabilly/punk guy, rock n' roll historian, and really is an editor somewhere downtown. haha me.

My response:

Drongo--
You have such great energy.
I want to see that Chinese movie so badly now. The last silly thing I saw was "The Conqueror" with the "Duke" playing Genghis Khan, with that same ol' John Wayne intonation. In an interview, Wayne said he saw Khan as a cowboy. . . Oh, lord.
I don't get the dog thing, either. It used to be everyone had to tolerate my straight transvestite friend/roomie Charles, but Kodiak trumps Charles by a longshot now.
Out of 30 emails, I got 3 angry responses to my ad, one upset I mentioned my cup size, one thot I asked for too much, and one angry because I'm "aggressive"
I think they must be repressed.
--Suki

>>>Anyways, I didn't really expect to be into this dude too much, and as part of his coolness test, I asked him to meet me on the L.E.S. at 12:30 am (when I got off work). He did! I was completely swept off my feet after we walked around for a while and we were talking about Steve Ditko he said (backlit, head tilted slightly up, smoking a cigarette) "Marvel stock is shit." When we were making out in front of my door at 4am, I started talking dirty to him in his ear. He put his mouth against my ear and said, "I want you to cunt me."

I went upstairs, and said to my roomie, "I just went out with straight Alan Ginsburg."

grrrr...to this day.

But Seriously Now: Emotional Abuse

2005-08-22T07:51:00.001-07:00

emotional abuse: infliction of mental anguish in order to dominate

Anyone can be the victim of emotional abuse. It is probably the most common form of abuse used between married couples (especially from women to men). It is the most painful part of alcoholic marriages. It can cause invisible but lifelong scars in children. With the aging population, it can be all or part of elder abuse, but the care giver can also be the victim. (Think of Lili Taylor, at the beginning of “The Haunting”).

I think everyone has been both a victim and a perpetrator of emotional abuse occasionally: the boss who likes to see his employee cower once in a while; the girlfriend who tortures her boyfriend with threats of leaving; the wife who sometimes feels her husband can’t do anything right; the parent who guilts his kid into doing chores. It’s too common and too easy to do. But I am not talking about occasional manipulative behavior. I am talking about long-term, day-to-day cruelty, that raises stress levels, causes the use and abuse of drugs, depression, and “acting out” in more nasty ways than I can type right here.

How Do You Know If You Are a Victim of Emotional Abuse?

Do you feel like you are walking on eggshells around this person?
Do you feel like you can’t do anything right for him/her?
Are you under constant threat (that you will lose your home/love/freedom)?
Are there certain signals that make you cringe before you even talk to that person?
Frequent guilt trips?
Do they try to shame you?
In a confrontation, do they keep switching sides, just trying to win the argument at any cost?
Do you feel inferior to this person? Do they try to make you feel inferior?
Are your feelings looked down upon? Outright sneered at?

What to Do If You Feel You Are the Victim of Emotional Abuse at Present

The first thing that you should know is that you have no power in this situation. This person is going to try to hurt you no matter what you do. You will never be able to please this person BECAUSE THIS ABUSE HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU, AND HOW GOOD/BAD/UGLY YOU ARE. It is all about the other person’s problems, which you cannot fix—and probably a world of psychotherapists couldn’t fix them either. So give yourself a break.

Read that paragraph over and over until you believe it, because it’s true.

Try to remove yourself physically from the situation, if that is all possible. Often, with emotional abuse, that is not possible, and is one of the reasons the abuse is so effective.

If you can’t get away, try to find a therapist or support group. Tell them that you want to deal with this subject. I have to say, I don’t believe that long-term talk therapy works. I think that pointed, 6 week discussions work.

Read up on stress management. There are so many books out there. Stress causes both physical and mental disease, and you are going to have to stay strong in the face of this person’s madness.

Remember that your best defense is to know that this person is trying to hurt you. Your pain is making him or her feel better—more powerful, right, better about himself. Why should you listen or pay attention or allow yourself to be hurt by someone as low as this? These words have nothing to do with you. Just ignore them.

True Fart, Sneeze and Scat Stories

2005-08-19T12:38:00.001-07:00

http://www.dumbmoments.com/

A laugh riot.

Good Time Girls

2005-08-16T07:07:00.001-07:00

So, not too long ago, I was in a bar (again) and the gentleman next to me said to the bar maid, “You’re just a good time girl, right, Jeanie?”

First, I was horrified that this guy basically called this girl a slut right to her face (that’s what that means to us, in woman language, you know). She ignored him. So he says, “You just like to go out and have a good time.” I think she ignored him again, or mumbled something dismissive.

I looked at this normally very nice gentleman, and all I could think was, “There is no such thing as a good time girl.” That is, a girl that just wants to go out and have sex, after the age of 25. And the ones under 25 are out looking…for a partner, but they’re not sure what they want yet, so they are just kind of going out and experimenting. They seem like good time girls, but they are really just fishing.

Myself, I often seem like a good time girl. I like to go out and party, but that’s just a preference over staying in and watching tv—the way I like to enjoy myself.

So, how do I know there aren’t good time girls out there? There are all those strippers, and “Girls Gone Wild” videos and chics in porn flix, right?

All women, saddled with the possibility of a child or a disease from having sex or a “good time” want or need something so badly they will put up with those possibilities. Strippers and porn chics want money. Girls Gone Wild—or any chic willing to do body shots, etc., are not lucid anyway, but they want attention. Women with kids need general help, and of course, your avuncular attitude toward their kids. A lot of women are looking for marriage, because in our society, still, you are not a success without a man in your life. Some women want you to take care of them financially. Myself, I like companionship, someone to keep the jerks away when I go out to see bands, and a regular sex partner (cause I hate condoms).

Sidebar:
Love? Of course we love. I am talking about the beginning of things, because it takes a while for love to develop. But even after we love, isn’t it nice to be needed?

Back to the main show:
Sorry to debunk the “Good Time Girl” myth. All girls--even sexy girls--have lives, hard ones too, with consequences. And we all exist when you are not here.

Response to NYTimes Essay: Fic vs. Non-fic in a 9/11 World

2005-08-12T13:09:00.001-07:00

On the last page of the New York Times Book Review section (8/7) this week there is an essay stating that fiction is being cut back from magazines, as if it were a recent phenom, but actually, as a short story writer since the early '90's (ok, so I haven't been that prolific, but I have tried to send my stuff out) I can say that the editors of general interest mags have been cutting back on their fic since then.

But...one of the issues brought up by the essayist was that since 9/11, there hasn't been much fic in response to that tragedy. Or set in the post 9/11 world in a meaningful way. And that now we're a news centered culture.

This person is thinking of 9/11 like it's an event that's over, like it's a calendar day gone by. And now we're in a new world, a new day. It's not true. Here is the truth: There has been no new day since 9/11. After the planes hit the World Trade Center, we waited for more planes to hit, more buildings to explode. We waited, in front of TV's, hungrily eyeing our sets, to decide if we should flee, to look for some key to our own safety, to controlling our own destinies.

The calendar days rolled by, but the next explosions never came. And while we go through the pretense of our daily lives of working, raising our kids, getting married, partying on, we are still waiting, looking at our TVs, newspapers, magazines, websites for a new explosion, a message, a clue, a key to our survival.

Butt Crack Raaaawk!

2005-08-11T11:27:00.001-07:00

Butt Crack Rawk USA! More workin'! Less thinkin'! YEAAH!

Hey, Workin' Stiffs! This album is dedicated to you!
1. Gimme Three Steps (Lynyrd!)
2. Ol' Time Rockin' Roll (Bob!)
3. Big Ol' Jet Airliner (Steve!)
4. Smoke on the Water (Deep!)
5. She's Got Legs! (ZZ!)
6. All We Are is Dust In the Wind (Kan!)
7. We're an American Band (Grand!)
8. Dead or Alive (Bon!)
9. More Than a Feeling (Bos!)
10. Centerfield (John!)
11. Pianoman (Billy!)
12. Margaritaville (Jimmy!)
13. Born in the USA (Bruce!)

Butt-Crack Raaaawk--Rockin' Round the Woooooooorld
1. Takin' Care Of Business (BTO, Canada)
2. Highway to Hell (AC/DC Australia)
3. Won't Get Fooled Again (The Who, UK, England)
4. Boys Are Back in Town (Thin Lizzy, UK, Ireland)
5. Maggie May (Rod, UK, England)
6. Start Me Up (Rolling Stones, UK, England)
7. We Will Rock You (Queen)
8. Radar Love (Golden Earring)
9. Whole Lotta Love (Led, UK, England)
10. Little Help from my Friends (Beatles, UK, England)
11. Cocaine (Eric, UK, England)

Giving Great Head in a Tired World.

2005-08-10T14:05:00.001-07:00

I would really, really like to write a post about love today. But I am exhausted.

My boyfriend met the wacky parents this weekend.

My dad's your basic mad scientist, retired. I can't really describe my mom. She's a mad spiritualist/interior decorator/hippie cook. What can I say? She collects everything in the world, including animal skulls. Oh, except for hummels or anything "cute" If it's cute, you can count on it not being in her house.

In my tired world, I think I will talk briefly about something exhausting, if you do it the wrong way: giving head. To a guy, I mean. There are lots of books and mag articles that talk about the different ways you can do it: humming, licking, etc. That information you can find anywhere.

All I want to say is this: Giving very good head, and remaining comfy while doing it are the same thing. Every time you get tired, or bored or uncomfortable, just change what you are doing. That's it. It will give you incredible endurance, and the more important thing: it drives the guy absolutely crazy. Especially if he tells you not to stop.

Let the excruciating pleasure begin.

Eating Out While Staying In

2005-08-09T05:58:00.001-07:00

A fine blog entry on the subject, with some interesting comments.

6 Second Reviews

2005-08-01T06:19:00.001-07:00

The Long Emergency, by James Howard Kunstler

The earth has a finite amount of oil on it, responsible for most of our electricity, population explosion, and suburbs. The earth is already running out of oil. When it finally runs out, in the next ten-fifty years, most of our electricity/transportation aka our way of life will end (including hospitals, air conditioning, automobiles, and supermarkets. A lot of people will die. Sure signs this will happen is skyrocketing then wildly fluctuating gas and oil prices, skyrocketing supermarket prices. Oil is already $60/barrel now.

My recommendation: Go out and buy two books. This one, and an organic farming book. Reconnect with a relative in a small town, so you have a place to escape to (cities will have sanitation problems). That way, if the engineers don't come up with an alternative energy source in time, you'll have a plan.

Wah uv Da Woilds
Starring: Dreamworks Special Effects Team and Tom Cruise
Good, despite Tom Cruise is in it. Some nice scary/creepy parts--and some intense images of people turning into dust.

Why Go After the Right Person?

2005-07-29T09:47:00.001-07:00

When there are so many ways you can f@$k yourself? And so many of the wrong people are out there? They are so easy to find--turn around! There's one right behind you!

There are two great ways to f&*k yourself I can think of, right off the bat:

Half Ass
These people give you a half-assed time of just about everything: they can only see you half the time; they call sometimes, and it's just dry blah-blah, nothing meaningful; they give you just enough attention to string you along, but when it comes down to the nitty-gritty (whatever that means to you) they are just not around. And you wonder: will this get better? Will this person change? Will I ever get what I want (attention/time/sex/marriage) out of them?

The answer to those questions is 99% no, so shed your tear, and just tell'em you gotta go. And if you don't have the strength to forget about them, imagine this scenario: What if someone magically gave you the attention/time/sex/marriage you were looking for? How do you feel? Is it comfortable for you? No? That's why you're at where you're at, baby.

Another Great Way to F&^k yourself is to go out with the

Full-On Ass
These people are "there for you" all the time. There for pissing on you, that is. No matter what you do, something is not right. There's no end to complaining,finding a way to look down on you, making you feel bad. After a while, you may find yourself lying to them, keeping things from them, not talking to them quite so much, or in the same way. You may feel resentful. Sometimes, the issue that you keep from them may seem small, like your religion, if you go once a year. But the issue will come up and keep growing, until you find you are lying or sneaking or feeling resentment toward your partner, who is there for you, pissing on you because they think your religion is stupid.

You really do not need this person either, no matter how secure you feel with them, or how much they say they need you. They just need you to make them feel better about themselves. No matter how much they say they need you, dump them. You will find out how replaceable you really are, because these people just need someone--anyone--around to make themselves feel better. And losers abound. Didn't you trip on one on the way to work this morning? I bet you did!

If you do not have the strength to dump this person, I must ask you: why do you want to feel like crap? Is this the way your parents treated you? Has everyone treated you this way? Do you think there is no one out there who will treat you better?
How about this: Can you treat yourself any better? Do me a favor and try, because I can't stand to see anyone piss on you that way.

2005-07-26T12:48:00.001-07:00

In high school, I used to paint portraits and the human figure 16 hours a day. I used to skip class to go to the art room and paint. No one gave a shit, because I got all A's.

I'd come home and paint more. Painting basically stopped when I came to NY fifteen years ago. No space in my tiny apartments.

This weekend, I painted portraits about 8 hours each day. Everything was fine, and then on one deep breath, I felt like I inhaled something more than air--it felt like my soul.

"Where have YOU been?" I asked it, a tear in my eye.

"Asleep, I think."

"Fifteen years? Screw you!" I thought at it.

It settled in to my body complacently.

And people wonder why I have problems with depression.

2005-07-25T11:59:00.001-07:00

I spent the weekend painting a portrait of my boyfriend and his dad--was supposed to be done for Father's Day (ha). But on Saturday night, Nike and I went out on the town. Love and Victory-- out for play on Staten Island. Smells like trouble, doesn't it, Sparky?

As much as I am outraged at shmuckish come-ons at myself, I am more so when I go out with a friend. I mean, don't these guys watch old movies? Why can't a Jimmy Stewart or Humphrey Bogart type come over and ask her if she wants a cigarette or something? There we were at the Sri Chinmoy show talking about the 20 instruments sitting on the stage, when a man in front of us starts staring at us. Staring hard. Not looking away. I see him, because he's in Nike's general direction. I thought he was going to get a crik in his neck. "Hey, Nike, that man is staring at us." She glanced up. The second she did, he said, "It says nature on your shirt. I like nature."

Have you slapped your forehead yet?

If not, try this: He hears her accent and says, "So, are you from Russia?"
Nike: No.
Schmuck: Poland?
Nike: No.
Schmuck:Ukrainia
Nike: No
Me: How many countries are there in the world? Two hundred?
Nike: I'll give you a hint. Mediterranean.
Schmuck: Greece!
Nike: Uh-huh.
Soon after they announced Sri would be 1/2 hour late. We left. Wonder why.

OK, this guy did not follow ANYTHING in my ToGL formula. Nothing. He stared for too long. (Creepy) He talked about her instead of our surroundings (which were interesting) so it sounded like a boring line. Then he didn't pick up on any visual cues (Nike was being nice in trying to respond to him, but not looking him in the eye). And he beat a dead horse.

This is why I emailed the Staten Island Advance today, and asked for their submission guidelines for their love & dating section.

P.A. Meeting

2005-07-22T13:18:00.001-07:00

Hey everyone.

So, um…this is my first time here, I guess. Oh, right. My name. Hi, my name is Suki, and I am a phalloholic. Hah. Right. Did I say that right? Ok, good.

I guess my addiction to cock started when I was fourteen or fifteen or so. How could I help it really? I had a major depression problem, and getting laid made me feel so…good. And once I started, I had to have more. I mean, it was really all I could think about. I used to draw anatomically correct pictures of cock in the margins of my notebook. Realistic detail.

But I didn’t think of it as a prrrraawblemm, if you know what I mean. And then I wanted it in every orifice. So far, I only found three that work good. But you know, a guy doesn’t need a big dick to fuck you in the head, if you know what I mean.

Ha.

So, I don’t know when I realized it was a problem. I never cheated on anyone. Ok, not never, but only once and it involved an iron maiden full of eraser sized vibrators and you know I’m not ever going to do that again--when could that happen again? But anyways, I said I almost never cheated, but I do run through guys like crazy. You know? I mean, I’m worried I’ll run out of them. Locally. I mean cause what happens is I need it a lot. I mean ah laawt. And guys think that’s all I want them for or that they have to constantly perform all the time. And that’s not true. OK, well it’s true sometimes, but I only hear complaining after five in the morning. And I won’t be treated like crap, either.

Ok, okay, here it is…this is when I knew it was a prrrraaawblem. When my guy went on vacation for three days, and my pussy ached so bad, I cried. The whole, entire time. I was almost hospitalized for dehydration.

Ok, is that enough? Alright. Thanks for listening.

Strippers, Gasoline, Step-Fathers, Oh My!

2005-07-22T06:09:00.001-07:00

This is why I love living on Staten Island.

Terminal Hurl, by Drongo

2005-07-21T11:39:00.001-07:00

Last night I worked late and got down to South Ferry about ten to seven. The 7 p.m. boat from Manhattan canbe pretty crowded and there were hordes of sweatingcommuters and tourists waiting around. All the seatswere taken--except for three near where I was standing. People kept going up to the empty seats toclaim them for their sweltering buns, but nobody tookthem.

As soon as they arrived at the seats they couldsee why they were empty--what looked like a completejumbo bagful of chewed-up, liquefied Cheez Doodles*oozed there on the floor in front of the middle seat.Two tourist chicks came up, and when they saw thepreternaturally bright orange pile of vomit,simultaneously said, "Ewwwwwwww!"

One young hipsterlet out a "Whoa!" as he almost stepped in the stuff. Areally square middle-aged commuter guy simply shruggedwhen he realized he wasn't gonna get his hoped-forseat. After a few minutes of this, a Hispanic man, a civilian, got up from his seat and went and fetchedtwo stacked-up orange traffic cones that were sitting by a nearby pillar for some reason. The guy put thecones around the puke. Then the doors opened and I joined the shuffling mass of humanity to get on the boat.

*"Gotta have cheese? Need that cheddar cheese flavorin a crunchy snack? See the world in an orange haze?Feed your need with Wise Cheez Doodles®, the crunchysnack with cheese to the max! Wise Cheez Doodles® willsatisfy your craving for cheese with big awesomecrunch and extreme cheese flavor. And be sure to eatall you want — it's not like there's a cheese shortageor anything!"

What Men Are Like or the Downfall of Mankind

2005-07-21T07:36:00.001-07:00

So, every once in a while, I talk about love. I ask people for love advice, and see what they say. I’ll say, “My boyfriend said did this or that, and I don’t think it was right.” And they will say, “Well, that’s what men are like.”

Ladies magazines say the same thing: men cheat, men trade-up, men are lazy, men are not “emotionally available.” (that’s in quotes, because I don’t know what it means.) My mom would say stuff like, “men are babies.” My grandmother would say, “Never put out. Men will talk about you, and you will lose your good reputation.” My friends actually believe that if you have sex too early with a man, that he will dump you because you put out too soon. (I almost always have sex on the first real date--I have never had this problem.)

Well, let me tell you what women are like: women cheat. Women trade-up. Women are lazy (that’s why they clean the house so angrily). Women are emotionally unavailable—they just hide it better. Women are babies. Women try to ruin a man’s rep by talking about him behind his back. If you have sex too early with a woman, she may think you “owe” her something.

Men suck. Women suck. People suck. That is the real truth. We look for excuses for shitty behavior in people we love. We use sexuality and gender as excuses for shitty behavior. Because being sexual is automatically “bad” right? And the other sex is the other, and so we automatically don’t understand the other, right? I find this completely crazy. I do my best to treat the men in my life (past and present) very well, and I expect (and have gotten) great spans of time when I was treated very well by my significant others.

There are a lot of shitty people (and you have probably dated some of them) out there, who have no values or morals. These words have gained a real negative/conservative/judgmental flavor, but they are about following one’s inner beliefs of what’s right and wrong, and sticking to those beliefs. They are about how we treat other people, and how we want to be treated. Sex and/or gender should really have nothing to do with this at all.

Hot for Satan--Just Another Reason I Love My Guy

2005-07-19T11:15:00.001-07:00

A while ago, I wrote an entry called, “Criteria: Or Why I Love My Man” or some such thing. I remember he read it, and felt so flattered. But the thing is this: criteria is about interchangeability: the shape of my favorite cookie cutter, more or less.

Love is about irreplaceability. It’s about me being a unique individual, wanting and needing and appreciating certain other things in someone else, or our own unique interaction.

I love Drongo because:

1. His voice is so deep, he sounds like he’s 6’8, instead of 5’9.

2. He has a tough guy, fresh-outta juvie hall Noo Yahk accent, but…

3. …he is so smart, he does the Saturday Times Crossword in pen.

4. He likes to change positions a lot in bed, you know, when we…

5. He looks like Satan, especially, when I’m right up close, eye-level with his nose. I guess a lot of people would say this is a left-handed compliment, but I am seriously hot for Satan!!!(Say, Paris Hilton does it for him, and Satan does it for me! What does that tell you? Made for each other, that’s what!)

6. The first night we met, he used dirty words in ways I had never heard them before.

7. Conversations go from cunninlingus to Sasquatch in two sentences—I can’t do that with just anyone!

8. He knows his Marvel Comics (Golden and Silver Age), and he knows about the business end too, which is a lot like telling what time it is by looking at the works of a watch.

9. He honestly enjoys playing with my son. ‘Nuff said.

10. I love the way he drives a car, all relaxed and casual, with his elbow out the window, leaning back in his seat.

11. He takes me out dancing at 1 am—even if he doesn’t really feel like it.

There’s a bunch of other stuff too, about the kinds of books he reads, love of hiking, hanging out, old movies…If you ever feel down, like maybe there is no one for you in this world, you now know that there is someone for everyone--even a comics-lovin', dancin' fool, hot for satan--and even you.

2005-07-18T13:58:00.001-07:00

Remember high school? Remember how most everyone seemed kind of normal? There was the one guy or girl who was especially quiet, maybe one weirdo, and 2 or 3 beautiful/athletic overachievers, and the rest of us who felt like losers, but were really average joes?

What happens to people?

How do they change from being average kids in class with fair to bad haircuts to ...I guess the nice word would be...characters in badly fitting polo shirts with the bottom of their guts' showing (men and women)? Where do the nervous ticks of compulsive winking, ear-tugging, head shaking (side to side) come from? When do people start to think that going up to strangers and asking them to feel their feet is a good idea?

What happens to people? What are they thinking? Lives can be real train-wrecks, sure. But these people aren't in the hospital--I see them commuting to work.

This may sound like outrage. Or rhetorical. Or funny. But this is a real existential question for me: What insanity lies within these people to make them so disturbing on the outside?

ToGL for Women: Approachability or The Deer that Wanted to Be Hunted

2005-07-14T09:07:00.001-07:00

Men think women have it easy--all these guys approaching them all the time with er--"love" and "best intentions" and the best lines they can come up with. Okay, some guys do come over with good intentions. They really do. Honest!

Meanwhile, for women, the big complaint is this: the guy I like doesn't like me. Or he does but he's not available (married, girlfriend, six jobs, alcoholic, whatever). Sometimes the guy just isn't into but he's too much of a coward (no, not a nice guy) to say something effectively off-putting.

Now, I do think women should approach men. Why the hell not?

But when an old boyfriend asked me how many I'd had, I tried to remember them all. And I noticed something: my success rate was much lower and took much longer when I was pursuing someone in particular, rather than just going out to where there were a very high percentage of men (I like punk clubs) and letting them come up to me. Pursuing men (crushes) are a real waste of time.

How to Be Approachable.

Men think it is really easy. All you do is just look nice and stand there, right? Have a drink and run your fingers through your hair.

Um, no. I feel a lot like a deer in an enclosed hunting range. Yes, but don't I want to get hit? Um, maybe? Will the hunter be smart and nice? I don't like feeling all those eyes on me, or people thinking "ohhhh, she's looking to get laid." The whole thing is extremely nasty. And then of course, there are all those nights of getting all dressed up, etc., and coming home empty-handed.

I asked a guy friend about the whole dress up routine, and he said men see a woman all dressed up and think, "a creature like that will have nothing to do with me."

To be approachable you have to throw yourself in a room full of men (think hard rock shows, hockey arena, martial arts exhibition fights, monster truck rallies, whatever you find most likeable/least offensive), and you have to look pretty, but not too pretty. So, whatever you are thinking of wearing, tone it down: jeans instead of a skirt, maybe; a more natural look with the make-up; only one piece of jewelry.

You should also be alone. By yourself. Don't bring a friend, because that will distract you from the people trying to have conversation. If you feel shy, bring a book, a drawing pad, crossword puzzle, if it could be appropriate (like a bar) or just get yourself a drink and start looking at the art in the room (at a party).

Try to forget you are being watched/judged and have fun, no matter where you are. The best way to do that is to just focus on having fun--whatever that might be for you at that moment. Hopefully you'll get so caught up in enjoying yourself, you'll attract the attention of many men in the room.

And don't forget to run those fingers through your hair.

Odd Individual by Drongo

2005-07-13T12:45:00.001-07:00

This past Tuesday I was on the Staten Island Ferry, heading home after work, when I witnessed something so bizarre I questioned whether or not it was actuallyhappening.

It’s my custom to hang back a bit when the boat docksand let the mob of commuting Islanders and touristscram the gangways. No use being in the midst of sweaty and smelly humanity. I was in my usual spot at the snack bar (actually, that's a misnomer as I never eatthe “snacks” offered and only swill the tall-boyBuds—let’s call it simply “The Bar.”), watching the human pageantry go by. As the crowd thinned out, I spied this guy passing by. He appeared to be no olderthan 30. He was tall and stocky, with short brown hairand a kind of pock-marked face. Not ugly, just ordinary. He was garbed in a sharp charcoal grey business suit, white shirt (no tie), and luster fully shined black dress shoes. That’s not the extent of hiswardrobe, though. He wore over his suit a short-sleeved denim jacket. Not cut-off sleeves, mind you, but with regular hemshalfway down the upper arms. He had only a couple ofbuttons done up. The front of the jacket had all thesecolorful patches sewn on, like a Vietnam vet wouldhave on his denim vest.

I couldn’t scope out what thepatches said, but I followed him, hoping to find out this info. There were two patches on his back, each about four or five inches square, one up by each shoulder. They were representations of album covers.One was by Saxon, the other had the cover artwork forMetallica’s “Master of Puppets.”

As we neared the front of the boat, he veered off and inspected the contents of a garbage can. He withdrew from the receptacle a soda cup with lid and strawstill attached, a “large” one from the The Bar withthe Pepsi logo. This guy, whose nice suit was besmirched by denim, began sipping from the cup. I followed him out to the bus ramps (which I cutthrough to get to the SideStreet Saloon), hoping toget a gander at the front patches. He sipped from thesecond-hand, certified pre-owned soda cup the entireway. I lost him.

Weirdo or wack-job? You decide.(And I’m asking about HIM, not ME, all you weisenhemers!)

Make a Woman Disinterested in Ten Seconds Flat!

2005-07-11T07:16:00.001-07:00

Scaring away sexy women is easier than you think! If you run into an attractive woman, and you want to make her disappear, you can try some of these:

1. Say "I like your tattoo. What is it? Why would you do that to yourself?"

2. Wait until another man is offering her a drink, and then offer her a drink at the exact same moment.

3. Tell a woman she has pretty feet, and then tell her you don’t like her toe nail polish. (Not only will she think you have a foot fetish, but that you’re a picky, insulting foot fetishist).

4. If you have a nervous tick, make it winking. Constantly wink at her, and then wink at other gals, too.

5. Keep talking to her, even though she is making no eye contact with you whatsoever. Keep talking to her, while she looks at the walls, the floor, cleans out her purse.

6. The first thing you should tell her is that you have a problem with (choose one, two, three or more!) drinking/depression/mania/genital herpes/parties.

7. If she does start talking to you, pull out a notebook (a clipboard is better, but a notebook will do) and start taking notes on your conversation.

8. If there is music playing, slap you thigh to the beat as mechanically as possible.

9. Tell her that your wife/girlfriend/significant other doesn’t understand you, so you “slapped her silly.”

10. Start self-grooming—not just digging the dirt out of your fingernails, either—pick at your skin, ask her about black heads on your face or back.

Today's Mischief--What I Posted on Craigslist

2005-07-07T08:31:00.001-07:00

Sidekick seeks Superhero! (Wall St. (Manh.) and St. George (SI))

Reply to: anon-82949068@craigslist.orgDate: 2005-07-07, 11:30AM EDT
While you are roaming the streets of New York "fighting crime", you need someone to type your letters, make xl budgets, answer your phones, make your phone calls, keep your calendar, handle computer technical issues, go to the bank, proofread your legal documents, program your cell phone, read your handwriting, cheer you up, come get you when the villain has broken your back (again), plan your business travel, and keep your true identity a secret. I have experience with all the above. Seeking a mere 40K, if you're a real dynamo on the side of good. Resume available, but only if you show me yours.

this is in or around Wall St. (Manh.) and St. George (SI)
yes -- it's ok to contact this poster if you are a potential employer or other principal
no -- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
yes -- ok to transmit this posting into outer space82949068

ToGL Help!!! People Are Answering My Personal Ad!!!

2005-07-06T08:51:00.001-07:00

I also spent time causing mischief last week, instead of writing in my blog. My friend Niki, who I know from my daily ferry ride, posted what she would write for a personal ad as a comment (see how to write a personal ad below). Of course, I added a short physical description, and a title “Looking for a few nice dates before I return to Greece,” set up a yahoo account, and put it on craigslist, all within a few minutes. I felt tense, because I thought maybe she would be a little mad at me.

She wasn’t, and now she has a date for coffee with someone after work today. She is nervous, of course.

Which brings us to:

Help!!! I posted a personal ad, and people are writing to me!!!

1. All kinds of people will answer your ad. Some people will answer you, because they just answer every single ad with the right sex/age demo, appropriate or not. Some people will reply with lewd comments, emotional outbursts, conversationally short emails as in “hey, wanna chat?” photos with no words, and form letters. Just ignore them. Or be like me: be horrified and fascinated by the human condition, and then hit the delete button.

2. Find between three and five people who really did read your ad, who “fit the description,” and who give you an overall good feeling. Don’t take anything they say at face value—people tend to talk themselves up, down, and sideways. What you want to pay more attention to is the tone of the email. Is it positive? Friendly? Not too pushy? Smart enough for you? Answer those. Hopefully, after a few emails, you can narrow it down to between two and three people you can go out and meet. Laying your hopes on one person can spell ruin. So reply to a couple of nice people, even if they are not your "favorite."

3. Go out and meet them! Don’t let this first meeting be a date, though. A little coffee/beer/soda to start out with, and have a conversation. MEET THEM IN A CROWDED PLACE, WITH PEOPLE AROUND- say yes to the diner, the mall, the coffeeshop, and say no to his/her place, midnight in the woods, the "romantic cliff with the view," and the ditch by the highway. Try to wear something so that they will recognize you. I used to always wear a green t-shirt with a giant foot on the front. For me, meeting people physically after meeting them online always feels unnatural. It takes a few moments to get used to the person's looks (whether they are hot or not).

4. If you don't meet anyone on this volley, don't be discouraged. Maybe you picked the wrong paper/website for you. Try a few others. Try describing yourself a few other ways. Enjoy meeting people--even if they're not quite right. I have gotten quite a few memorable dates from personals. (I'll write of those adventures another time).

Eulogy for Scott "Instant Death" Byrne

2005-07-06T07:59:00.001-07:00

My ex-husband died from heart failure at the age of 44. He was extremely bright and charming, with a sense of wit and irony that shone through his music, even his electronic music. I got my musical sense of humor from him. He had the most maniacal laugh--it was like something out of an evil cartoon character.
We would drink and do acid and extasy and coke together... marathon sex and drug sessions... talk about synchronicity and Star Trek and music. I used to see him play drums several times a week--and even if I didn't know where he was playing, I could tell walk down the street and tell which bar he was playing at by the way he used his cymbals.
I liked that he played with several different bands: Instant Death, Barbecue Bob & the Spare Ribs, Simon & the Bar Sinisters, Fisherman's Stew, George Jr, and more I can't remember.
He was a great cook, and would make us rice and beans with fancy wine sauces.
Things went bad, of course, or else he wouldn't have become an "ex" husband. But I think we sometimes forget, in this New Age, "healthy" culture, that the point of people is not how nicey-nice they are, but how intense they are and how much they give to everyone around them. Scott always gave everyone a laugh, a smile, a drink, a song, a beat. He gave a lot. Thank you, Scott.

What Is Wrong with Toughness Contests?

2005-07-05T12:44:00.001-07:00

A toughness contest is just what it sounds like. It starts out with someone saying, "If you were tough, you'd understand..." or "But have you ever had a dead rat left on your doorstep?"

And then someone else says, "I so too have been oppressed..." or "I do so understand..." "You don't know what I've been through..." etc., etc., etc...

I have news for you. Actual really tough people, who have been through the shit, who have been in war, or concentration camps, or almost killed, etc. don't bring this up with strangers on the internet. They don't want to talk about it, to explain it, to relive it, to think about it, especially not with people they don't know.

Not that these people are completely pent up. They will share experiences with people who share similar ones. They can talk in their own slang, and talk about details surrounding the experience. My dad, for example, is a tough guy, (WWII) and would talk to me about waking up on the beach in Okinawa with a large rat looking at him, inches from his face, as the body parts washing up on shore.

Toughness contests are just whiney, man. When they come up, I just find a nice way to walk away.

What I Did On My Vacation

2005-07-05T12:04:00.001-07:00

1. Rode for eight hours each way on boat, train, bus, cab, and car to see my folks, with a sunny/stormy/sleepy two-year old in tow.
2. Stood ankle deep in the ocean, and called, “Hail Poseidon” at 8 am.
3. Taught my two-year old to yell “Hail Poseidon” at the top of his lungs while standing knee deep in the ocean.
4. Had a few Buds with five Jamaican dames in big flower-covered hats in a garden “tea house”.
5. Moved my mom’s crystal balls into the “jungle room” so my son wouldn’t try to bowl with them.
6. Missed my boyfriend, painfully. I thought I was going to rip my own heart out with my bare hands.
7. But when he finally did call, I said, “Oh, you don’t want to see me? I don’t want to see you either.” (He did want to see me.)
8. Stared pensively at one of my mom’s cow skulls (she has a collection of 15) while using the throne.
9. Napped.
10. Shuffled hand-in-hand with boyfriend and toddler through a cavalcade of tattooed, Converse-shod, music-lovers in Battery Park, and smiled.

ToGL: How to Write a Personal Ad

2005-06-28T13:36:00.001-07:00

Nothing turns me foaming mouth rabid like a personal ad that looks like this:

“Good looking girl seeks good looking guy. Works out 3 days a week. Witty.”

They may have some line about fine dining, cuddling by a fire, or sunset-lit walks by some scummy puddle. Or head games. And that’s it. There’s probably some badly-lit, nose-enhancing photo that was taken of the writer by his own hand.

I have a history with personals that spans 16 years, and I wrote them for a lot of different reasons: social experiments (write about myself different ways, see what I get); dinner (when I was starving in college); anger (because writing personals used to be an art, dammit!)

The last personal ad I wrote was about 10 months ago. I was angry, like I am now. What happened was I went to craig’s list to scan personals for fun, found the bs like above, and wrote my own ad (no photo, because I’m old school) to show them how it should be done. I wrote that I had a kid and he comes first, that if everyone on this site is so great, why aren’t they out getting laid, and described myself completely, from clothing sizes to hair style to what I like doing by myself to what I like doing with my guy, (yes, sexually), and also what I like to do, my interests, etc. And I met the best guy. We're still together. The interesting thing to me was that I took a tough tone in my ad, and I met powerful people: pro-wrestlers, fashion designers, editors. No joke.

How to Write A Personal Ad
Everyone:
1. You are not looking for the largest number of responses. While flattering to the ego, a large number of responses wastes a lot of time and money. All you need is one response: the right one.

2. Be truthful. Tell them how you look. Not what you weigh, because that can be deceiving. And not some broad adjectives, like skinny or fat or bodacious. If people compliment you on anything, say so. How tall you are, your clothing sizes, hair color, eye color. If you want a photo to cover this, make sure that someone else takes it, that you are not at a wedding, and that you are outside, and look a little nicer than usual.

3. If you have anyone special already in your life, be it a child, or wife, or a cat, say so. A lot of people are allergic to children, spouses and/or pets. Bring it up in your ad, and save everyone (including yourself) some time.

4. Write down what you like to do, whether it is watching "Friends" or illegally training a pet dolphin in your pool. Write down ideally how much and what kind of sex you like or not like. You don't have to get too deep into the description, or too graphic or visual. You can say something like, "I like giving and getting oral, but I don't let anyone play with my feet." That's it. Keep those foot fetishists at bay.

5. Describing the other person.

Think back to any qualities that all your boyfriends/girlfriends shared in all of your successful relationships. Like, I realized that all my favorite boyfriends had very large media collections: records, tapes, cds, dvds, videos, books--basically massive libraries in their homes. I made sure to put that in my ad. This may take some time and some lists, but maybe all of your favorites liked "Friends" or something.

An ad written by a straight woman should list her minimum physical requirements for a guy. Not the maximum. You may think that will get you less than what you ask for, but actually, you will get honest guys that are more than what you ask for. I asked for someone taller than me (5'5 or taller) and no fatter than Jack Black in my last ad. My guy is 5'9, and 160lbs. Perfect.

An ad written by a man, ideally, should not list any physical requirements that have to do with a woman's body, other than maybe her height. Women are in a difficult position: society tells them they all have to look like Paris Hilton, but that'll never be so, and you will probably miss out on women without huge egos if you talk about how beautiful they have to be. I think the best way to hedge this whole issue is to be very vague:" slim pref.", or "endowed pref.", "only responses with pix will be answered" (but you better have your own pic up for that one). And if you want someone very athletic, you should probably cover that in your interests section, as in, "After a long day studying frog genitalia in the lab, I want someone to bike ride ten miles with me and recount to me what happened on "Survivor." Something like that will probably get all of the dumb, fat chics who need you home at 6:30 at bay.

6. Write your "headline" last. Write everything else. Don't worry about being too witty. In my experience, the wittier the ad, the dumber the respondents. Just try to be clear. At the end, of all your lists, see if there is any kind of common thread, witty head line you can come up with. If not, just look at the list of activities you like to do, pick out your favorite one, and just say "Seeking someone to ______ with me."