Virginity
I was confronted by the word "Virgin" today. There's a book out with that title, by Hanne Blank, whose style and subject matter I usually adore. But I was not able to even read the reviews. The word brings up too much discomfort. From being 14 and deciding to lose my virginity at 16, to my mother telling me the use of tampons would eliminate my 'virgin' status, to gasping, "I want to save it for marriage," as J.B. date raped me, to my sadness because when I finally did fall in love with someone, he was not able to be my first...the whole 'virgin' thing absolutely sucked. I'd like to erase from my mind that I was ever identified with the word virgin.
Stock Shock Sirius XM Radio Movie
http://stockshockmovie.com/So here's a dvd coming out in June. For free shipping, use Coupon Code: Susan
From the website:
SiriusXM satellite radio is one of the lowest priced stocks in the market. This, despite the fact the company is a virtual monopoly (having merged successfully with XM radio) and generates nearly 2.5 billion dollars each year with its 19 million subscribers. Even as SiriusXM has a growing number of fans and market potential, the stock has traded for as little as 5 cents per share making "short sellers" filthy rich.That's it from the website. The below is me:
So anyway, I purchased sirius stock. I wanted to learn how to buy stock, and I'd read Suze Orman, and I decided I needed to invest in stuff other than high heeled shoes and purses.
Only problem was, I didn't have much money to work with. So sirius was terrific for me, because it was siriusly cheap (bad pun) when I got it. So far, its gone up, and I'm still hanging onto it. We shall see. But the important thing is that I learned how to buy stock. (that sentence cracks me up in an after-school-special kinda way)
My next lesson I need to learn, and hopefully not the hard way, is how to sell it off at the right time...
Labels: sirius xm radio, stock shock
We all know Valentine’s day sucks.
For the singles, all you’re focused on is how painfully single you are (and feeling like a total loser). For the attached ones, Valentine’s day is a set up for huge let-downs (and feeling like a total loser).
Here’s some reality for the ladies: if your partner's idea of romance is sitting in front of the tv with a beer, the date Feb. 14 will not magically turn him into someone who feeds you chocolate covered strawberries and champagne and surprise you with 10 hours of delicate foreplay.
I learned this in my early twenties. I purchased a dozen long stemmed red roses for my then-boyfriend. When he saw them, he blurted, “Oh, shit! It isn’t Halloween is it? I mean…(long pause)” The guy couldn’t even remember the name of the holiday, much less celebrate it.
I only remember 3 Valentine’s days from my past. The one I just mentioned, another when I decorated the bedroom with pink and red streamers (again, I was in my early twenties), red and white balloons, set out a pink beverage, it was cherry 7-up… and finally, one when I happened to be single that year, and threw a party for all my other single friends. (that time, I was in my thirties)
The point is, my most memorable Valentine’s days were about me doing something to make the day special. And not being attached to the result. (mind you, the time I decorated the bedroom, my then-boyfriend did not take me into his arms and tell me I was beautiful and how much he loved me. I think he looked terrified and bolted.)
Anyway, with this in mind, I decided not to blow off Valentines day, but instead, I set out to make today special.
I’ve started by sending Valentine’s greetings to some dear friends, via email. (including a couple of hideous homemade e-cards)
I’m taking the time to write this little essay to post to all my friends, so they don’t think they’re alone in having a less than fabulous Valentine’s day. (and a shout out to those of you who do have a great one!)
Earlier, I put on some inappropriate red lipstick, and did errands in it. (It was my only make-up, that and sunglasses)
My boyfriend and I will go out to dinner tonight, and I’m going to wear a red dress that I haven’t worn before, that’s been in my closet for months. Even if we go to a cheap chinese restaurant, I’m wearing a fabulous dress and ho-red lipstick.
I ain’t waiting for the romance-fairy because there is none.
Instead, I’m gonna do what I can do, which is have as good a time as I can, and if my partner or anyone else wants to go along for the ride, then by all means, join me in having a great time. This includes my friends, via email or any means.
So if you decide to join the Valentine’s day bandwagon, then drop all the expectations, let go of romance, and set out to have a good time instead.
Then, if any romance happens, it’ll be a bonus.
Happy Valentine’s Day all!
BTW, I already had some romance today. I saw a young couple, she was chubby and dressed like Raggedy Ann, in some bibbed dress with petticoat, almost like a square dance outfit. He was skinny, super long haired, goth/punk wearing eyeliner. She sat on his lap, and as people drove by, they stared and judged. As the two held each other, I recognized the “You and me against the world” thing, that was also a part of what they had, and it was really beautiful. Really really beautiful and romantic.
This is "Precious," my one legged pigeon friend. Behind her is a security dude. Another security dude (not pictured) recently came up to me. As he stood among an empty Fritos bag and multiple cigarette butts, he threatened to fine me $100 for littering by feeding my one legged crippled pigeon friend. I said, "But there's no evidence" (of litter) since the birdseed I'd dropped for her was eaten up. He said, in a snotty ass tone of voice, "The EVIDENCE is that I SAW YOU!"
Great job controlling litter, buddy.
Which reminds me of another time when a woman saw me toss some leftover birdseed (I probably didn't see Precious that day) to some sparows, and chastised, "Ya shouldn't feed da birds, dey carry disease."
In the fantasy world in my head, I'd have said to her:
"Look, lady, you're probably what, diabetic? Maybe on cholesterol medicine? By your standards, we shouldn't feed you either cuz you carry disease. I see a LOT of runny snot nosed wet hacking little kids. Should we not feed them either? Those little brats are gonna consume a lot more of the earths resources and create a lot more waste than these tiny sparrows. Why don'tcha eat another mad cow burger with bacon and leave me the frick alone?"
That was my inside voice voice.
Um, so right now, I'm working trying not to be so self righteous. Its not really graceful. (I'm trying to develop grace. Albeit, obvously, not so successfully...)
Damn.
I just spent a long time in the shower, shaving, getting all clean and beautiful with the intent to seduce the boyfriend as soon as he got home. He just called. To ask what we should serve the guests who are coming over to carve pumpkins. Damn. Well, by golly, now would be a good time to own a vibrator. But I don't. Guess I'll go jog or something. (yeah right)
Above, my Governator pumpkin I carved a few years back.
To Do List:
1. Fill up the space between now and when I leave my body.
2. Have who I am right, where I am right.
3. Unearth, dig up pleasure from the recesses of my soul
Listening to cocteau twins right now, sorta like a bumpier version of Enya, which I can't decide if I like, never been one to run thru emerald isle forests. Although my friend did say that one guy she fucked said that Enya loud was really good to fuck to. I thought Massive Attack's Mezzanine album would be most excellent to fuck to, however, it didn't work. Meanwhile, thinking of a girl I met, years ago. She lived downstairs from me, in a small studio apartment with her gloomy Russian musician boyfriend. She was the opposite, light, life, a smile to die for. Short dark hair, small, like a little bird angel creature. TV was turned on, no sound, to Playboy channnel. "Because my boyfriend likes it," she said. He sat glumly over a keyboard, probably suspicious of me, of anyone who came into contact with his beautiful girlfriend. She said she sang, and she and her boyfriend wanted to be "famous like the Cocteau Twins, you know, really good, but not so famous that you can't walk downt the street..." She grabbed a beautiful colored crystal bowl from her nightstand, held it up to her chest, smiled that fucking gorgeous, breathtaking smile at me and said, like a little girl with a new barbie, "Look! I stole this from a shop in downtown La Jolla!" I no longer remember what she looked like, I only remember that I loved her then.
This video is exacerbating my current
horniness...
I'm grumpy.
I shot a wedding a week ago. I started checking out other wedding photogrpahy sites, and damn, am I cheap. Even the bride had a "that's all?" tone to her voice when I told her how much I charged.
I took the cliche shot of the bride looking out a window, and suddenly her bridesmaids are creaming their panties because they're excited about me getting that shot. Total fucking bridal cliche, but what the hell. I'm getting paid, they're creaming their thongs, and prefab cliche is a helluva lot easier than original creative artistic shots.
Damn, I am grumpy.
I'm pissed off for a couple of reasons...I've got $45 to last me till the end of the month. I want to buy a book, and a dress, and grocery shop for the week.
Knowledge, beauty, or food...
I have enough for the book.
Why oh why am I so grumpy?
For breakfast, I'm eating peanut butter and jelly on a spoon. I don't have any bread.
Maybe the grumpiness is because I have hundreds of wedding pics to sort thru, crop, and edit.
Well, I need to get my day started.
I call Saturdays "My day of pleasure."
Where the frak is my pleasure today???
Grumpy me.
I see these beautiful recipes, and I think, "Wow, that looks delicious. I'm going to try that recipe!"
And then I add my own special touch.
The touch of "Why don't mine look like the picture with the recipe..."
email transaction:
Shelby writes:
did you know clay aiken(am. idol) just came out of the closet?! i am shocked! i had no idea he was a fag!!! you just never really know someone....lol Me:
Clay Aiken? Gay?!
I find that hard to believe.
He's so macho. Man, those leather types always fool me...Shelby:
I KNOW!!! where was my gaydar?.....my, i must be losing it with age...did you know i was gay? NEKESA MUMBI MOODY wrote an article about Clay's coming out (url below) and she quotes a girl on a fan-site that had me speechless:
"This is really shocking news as I had no idea he was gay," read a comment posted by "Sheridansq." "And now I have to deal with this. I am not sure what to say to people who know I was a fan. ... I didn't go to work today and am not answering the telephone."
I want to meet this girl, Sheridansq -- not be her friend, but to stare at her like a zoo animal. Taking a day off work?! I'm picturing her with her forearm thrown to her head, having a Victorian fainting spell, "My smelling salts, pleeease..." as she falls on her divan... (...a long, backless sofa...) What's she gonna tell her boss? "I'm sorry, its Clay...I thought we would marry...but he's gay...Even tho he has no idea of my existence, well..."
So I started thinking about gayness, and how if I get a couple drinks in me, I find cuteness in those big butch bull dykes...
I'm questioning 'what is gay?' Besides the Clay Aiken lip balm you get if you join his fan site...
I can love someone of either sex. I mean, you love your grandparents. So who you love doesn't make you gay. Gayness must be who you're sexually attracted to.
But if I were to be blindfolded and stimulated...touched in a way I like, I'd get aroused if it were a male or a female, so for me, it's not a biological orientation towards a gender. Blindfolded, I'd react the same to a man or a woman touching me.
Of course, in a particular mood, a ladybug crawling on my arm could feel really good...but I wouldn't start a relationship with it.
So by my logic, either homosexuality is a choice, or I'm bisexual.
But then if I masturbate, I'm having sex with a woman. That must be gay.
What if its out of convenience? Being lazy? What if I don't feel like going thru the effort to have someone else to get me off? Sometimes its a hassle. If my boyfriend is in the middle of watching a playoff game, it is waaaaay not worth the hassle.
So where does laziness factor in? I knew one stripper who said, frustrated, "I'm straight! Everyone thinks I'm gay, but I'm not! I just don't feel like breaking up with my girlfriend!"
Where does laziness factor in?
And what about auto-eroiticism? I can arouse
myself just thinking about being blindfolded and having different hands touch me. I can turn myself on. So does that make me auto-sexual? (is there a word for this?) It sounds like, "ought to sexual" like "I
ought to have sex."
Well, I need to get my day started. I took the day off work. I'm going to a PAX (Alison Armstrong) workshop. We'll see if it does me any good.
