Thursday, June 29, 2006


While I'm working out some shit an experiment.

Okay so I joined one of those referral/survery for money things. I would like to make twenty dollars in the next three weeks. I also am very interested to see if this shit actually works at all then write an essay/article about it.

If you would like to join please click my stupid banner and also please leave a comment. I can screen them if need be. Then after the 3 weeks or so are up (payouts are round the 20th) I'd like to know what you thought about it. The proliferation of this sort of thing amazes me and I want to know if it works.

So...yeah clickit.

Get Instant Profitz!

I will add a banner here somewhere with my stats as I go along.

Thank you and goodnight.

My head is going to pop.

For reference:
I think I've decided what I actually want to be when I grow up, (aside from a writer that is) and it's kind of fucking with my head.


Freaking out- Yes.
Not ready to talk about it- Hell yes.
Needing some alone think time- Yes again.

I will be (more) incommunicado for a few days while I work it out some.

Homo out.

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Fizzit and hookers.

I'm sitting here drinking Hansen's Fizzit vitamin/mineral energy drink. Trying to stay semi alert for the rest of the night.

It's not going well.

The Fizzit is part of me trying to have a better diet. I've been succeeding mostly but, it's hard to eat well when the good food you like is so fucking expensive. My take on the ease of being poor and healthy is as follows:

"You're poor? Well fuck you."

Actually that sums up a lot of my feelings about being poor.

Add into it my increasing insomnia and you get survey says: depression.

Not to mention my general malaise of malcontentedness which all adds up to me being crankier than usual and pretty anti-social. It's a shame because with the nice weather it's prime for going out but I just don't feel like it. Nor can I really afford it.

In lieu of further whining about my economic status I'm going to talk about sex work.

My wonderful BoyVenus and his as yet un-nicknamedbyme girlfriend sent me a care package full of books. One of them (the first I'm reading) is Whores and Other Feminists edited by Jill Nagle. I very seriously believe this book should be required reading for anyone wanting to do or currently doing any sex work. Also I think people opposed to any kind of sex work need to read it as well.

In all of the anti-porn, sex-negative, anti-(insert sex related thing here) talk often the human face of whatever it is, is ignored and forgotten. That is to me the downfall of any movement. If you are violently opposed to say abortion, I find it crucial to use some empathy and remember the other people in your argument. I find it disgusting that with so many hot button issues the human aspect is left out or worse debased.

When it comes to sex work issues I'm appalled at what I've heard intelligent kind human beings say. The stigma of being involved in the sex industry whether it's modeling, porn, phone sex, stripping, prostitution, escorting etc is so unnecessary. I don't really understand the arguments. Especially here in America. Supposedly this is the land of the free and the home of the brave unless you want to do something your neighbor doesn't like. Then, fuck you, Uncle Sam is going to spank you and tell you no.

I cannot stand the billions of dollars that are wasted yearly prosecuting sex work. And drugs use. America seems to enjoy over looking the fact that prohibition of any kind in this country just does not work. Drugs are illegal? People take them anyway. Jail them? Many will do drugs when they get out. It's absurd.

I believe sex work should be legalized period. What consenting adults do or do not do with each other is none of anyone's business but the people involved.

If that's not clear enough-

If I want to pay a beautiful woman to fuck me while I wear stars and stripes high heels and scream the national anthem at the top of my lungs who's business is it but mine and the lovely I pay to do it?

If I want to go home roll a joint and smoke it why is it any of your business?

It all makes me ill.

I absolutely do not believe that morality can be legislated.

Yes you can cover the basics to keep your population in relative safety and to discourage crime but, you cannot dictate to another human being what their personal code of ethics and morals will be. Not if they are your neighbor not if they are your child.

Parents raise their children, they teach them, they care for them, they learn from them and hope that when those children are adults that they are capable, whole and wonderful people. But any parent of a teenager or adult can tell you straight up you cannot force someone to become someone they are not.

It just doesn't work.

I think as part of my trying to make my own life better I might start writing more about these kinds of things.

I'm also thinking about starting an independent beauty/fashion blog. Unaffiliated with this one. Mainly product reviews, tips etc. I've been talking about using Wordpress and I think it might prove to be a good learning experience.

Not to mention we all know I am a beauty/fashion/DIY/be fabulous on the cheap WHORE. Yes, I am.

I can babble on about skin care, make up, hair care etc for hours. HOURS. Folks. Why not put it to good use?


Believe it or not this has taken me three hours. I am so tired, keeping a train of thought is difficult.

I have emails for Pollyland and Miss Paige. I know I said that the other day but I've really not been feeling so hot at all. My anti-sleep schedule is wearing me down. Hopefully this is one of those cyclical bouts of chronic insomnia and I will recover and/or just get some good fucking sleep soon.

And where is Miss TuffTitties? I was thinking about you. She for those who don't know is one seriously (I mean deadly) hot lady.


Okay one more hour and I'm just going to babble until I run out of steam.

I'll let you all in on a secret. I know some of you have probably seen those things where it tells you that whatever you wanted to be as a young kid is probably what you were supposed to do with your life?

As a child I wanted to be the following:
1.) A burlesque performer ala Gypsy Rose Lee.
3.)Lounge singer.
4.)cultural Anthropologist.
5.)Forensic Anthropologist.

That's all I can remember at the moment. To date I have done a little of the naked dancing. I write.

I haven't done the lounge singer thing. Although I frequently subject Mike to throaty tenor renditions of things. Or on occasion make a jaw drop or two and go do Elvis' version of Fever.

I also decided tonight while reading Twisted Monk's blog that I want to be suspsended like the photo in his last entry. No boobies in the photo. But, if you have folks sensitive to seeing a grown person hanging upside down probably look at it later. Anyhow.

I've never really been into serious rope bondage before. Yes I've been tied up here and there but never anything like shibari. I have always had quite the artistic appreciation of rope bondage. I love to see photos of and have seen live people in stunning set ups but not done it myself. And I have decreed that I will have someone suspend me like that. It will happen. If I have to show random people my boobies until someone offers.

Speaking of bondage I also think I want to get one of those wedge liberator pillows. (I am too lazy to find the link google it). Those things look like fun. I will be greatly relieved to get our stuff (yes I"m referring to our sex toys) out of storage. We have this toy by Hustler that I can't remember the name of but it's got two parts. One medium sized silver egg and then this fabulous flexi wand thing. They have a central controller and two cords and fucking rock.

Anything flexi-wand=G spot mother fucking gymnastics. Once I found my gspot having gspot orgasms is actually pretty easy for me. A thing that I thank the Goddess of Orgasm for every day. I am one of the extraordinarily lucky women who can climax from penetration alone or clitoral stimulation or both at the same time. (WEEEEEEE!).

Aren't you glad you read this far so you can read about my pussy?

Yes I thought so.

Speaking of I actually trimmed the other day. I took more of my precious pubies than I'd intended to. It's kind of like when shaving your head or face. One oops and you just have to keep going. I'm not really excited about it. I'd like my pubies, even the half that are white, to grow back now please.

Isn't there a pubic hair fairy out there somewhere?

If anyone says Merkin I will smite you.

And I think I'm spent now. I'm tired. Almost time to go home.

And to wrap it up a little Bustabusmothafuckin Rhymes for Busty Rusty-

Pop yo' collars like this
Bottles up like this
Side to side like this
Holla if ya like this

And Homo Out.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006


I just did something really dorky that involved a fan letter.

Good lord.

No sleep just shreds what inhabitions I actually have.

I also was reminded by someone really really special to me. Two someones actually, anyhow I was reminded that I am well loved. And I appreciate that from the depths of my soul.

I tend to be very emotionally tipsy and fragile when this tired. I'm either full of those unshed shiny tears movie screens love or, I'm stabby and want to do violent things to people.

It's a toss up.

So in order to take my mind off of teariness/stabbiness let's talk about Gay Pride shall we?

If you've known/followed me for a few years I fucking LOVE the gay pride. To say I whore it up at gaypride is kind of an understatement. If there was more than one big GayPride celebration a year I'd need an intervention.

Because of the celebratory nature of Pride I will make with the serious random fondling/smooching/groping/makingout/boobyshowing. It's happened folks. There are probably photos somewhere to prove it.

(Sorry Rusty this isn't the BAM there's my titty post).

That's not to say I'm not equally as feel up friendly at other times but Pride is special. Where else could I ever have a someone elses leather boys on a leash and lead them down the sidewalk and have people clap not just point and whisper?

This year I'm not sure how much of the proverbial uber partying Byootiful and I will get to do. My schedule fucking sucks. I think we might make the Friday night opening but there is something else we are promised for.

So yeah.

I'll let everyone in on a little secret. And yes I know this is SO fucking cliche but I want to go to pride in San Francisco. But come on man.


I just got such a hard on.

I have to be honest I would probably just blow RIGHT up.

Finally the Religious Right could say that gayness killed someone because I would have a Homoexcitement induced fucking stroke.

I would have to be supervised like an heiress set loose on a nude beach with a snootful of who knows what.

Someone would have to not only chaperone me, but probably leash and harness me to keep me from scampering off to do who knows what with pervy gay (or mostly gay) people.

And that's considering I'd probably want to be sober for the event.

It's a scary, scary thing people.

I should probably talk about something else before I wet myself.

Just to keep it real everyone should know that I sat here for a full ten minutes with technicolor porno playing inside my head. Porno people. Pansexual dirty perverted porno.

It really doesn't help that I was ogling someone elses ponyboy the other day.

Ugh I'm fucking tired.

So I'm going to save this post and go make some soup and return.

So if you really are not interested in any of my further inane insomniac ravings stop reading right now and go have a quick wank. Go deserve it.

I've had soup and taken my vitamins. I feel kind of better in the weeeeeeeeee euphoria stage of sleep deprivation.

I've been seeing all over the net everyone and their grandma is making look books. When I saw the term on a fashion group I was mystefied for a moment. But pretty much it's where you make a scrap book of different clothing/style looks for yourself.

I used to do that as a kid pretty often.

But right now I think it might actually serve as some catharsis. For the past couple of years my body and I have not been getting along. I can honestly say that I'm approaching coming to an agreement with the cranky bitch. I am almost 30 and as we all know, gravity wins.

Not just gravity but your body will decide whether or not it likes what you've been doing and my body has said bitch stop.

I am not built to be a thin woman and I am finally coming to some terms with that. Frankly generally speaking I look stupid if I'm anywhere under a size 10. I could do with some firming up but, I don't look as bad as I thought I did.

So back to this look book thing. I'm putting together one for myself. I'll probably make it a permalink here so I can add to it. I have one big goal and that's to start making the nice clothes I like. So if whatever ubergawthic line isn't made for actual women fuck em. They can't have my business.

I have come to the point where I can comfortably say fuck em. Fuck them right in the goat ass.

So I'm working on that. Maybe once I get the making clothing thing going decently I can either figure out or get over my whole weird obsession with Gothic Lolita. However I'm not all for the super frilly. I think I'm more the puffy skirt and stomp your ass boots sort.

Wow. This all may come across as very manic but it's taken me quite awhile and I think I'm spent now.

So yeah.

Homo Out.

PS email for Miss Page and Pollyland. When I'm not feeling 2 iq points short of our president outwitting me.

Friday, June 16, 2006

Random much?

Out of the six people who read this blog I believe probably 3 know me personally. So instead of talking about boots, boobs, or my gayness explicitly it's going to be some random-you-probably-don't-need-to-know-about-me sort of things.

First thing since it's playing right now. Albinoni's Adagio in G minor makes me want to cry. I don't have any bad or sad memories to go along with it but everytime I hear it I want to cry.

There is more than one piece of classical music that I love so much I could probably conduct it and do a reasonable job. I also idolized Leopold Stokowski for a very very long time from a very very young age.

Music means more to me than I can really express to people. A lot of my thinking, memories, etc revolve around music. I can talk about music forever and usually bore people within five minutes unless they too are fond of the music geekery.

I love some songs/albums so much I will listen to them until everyone in my immediate vicinity hate me, hate the song/album and want to gouge out my eyes.

As many times as I threaten to pee on (insert thing/person/movie/website here) a day I have actually peed on something out of vengance. Drunk boys+beer+anger at roommate=Me peeing on someones car.

Almost every morning upon getting home I have the same routine. I pee and then take off my shoes, socks and pants. Regardless of what kind of shirt I have on. And usually I don't lose the shirt and bra until I start to fall asleep.

The smell of Ck1 makes me want to punch someone in the face.

Some people have the same effect on me. It's an instant visceral thing. I'm not sure what it is about some people but, I do want to just hit them in the face.

Said punching may or may not also involve a quick fantasy about bending said person over and screwing the daylights out of them.

I have been known to make strangers cry. And if you are an asshole in public needlessly I have no qualms about pointing it out to you and whomever else is around. Sometimes in a polite way others simply by saying something like, "you really don't need to be such an asshole." I used to be terrible about going nuclear on people in public but, as I get older I have gotten calmer. Somewhat.

I have been known to commit random acts of smooching tipsy or sober. Some people just need to get smooched and I am just the lady to do it.

I LOVE bald women. A woman with a shaved head makes me moist in my pants region.

I curse a lot.

No, I mean a lot. These are very very foul lips.

I talk to various parts of my body. As in I will look at my boobs and say, "Will you bitches please behave." Or I've been known to bend over and say to my uterus, "Okay it's not funny anymore stop it."

Other phrases that have been heard out of my mouth more than once:

"Can't hear you I'm peeing."

While watching Mike try to tell me something he couldn't think of, as he's gesturing I said..."magic?"

"Move LaoWai." (Chinese slang for foreigners)

I do little booty dances everywhere. If there's music playing it's worse.

I will quote lyrics at people for no apparant reason. Usually ones I doubt they will know.

When I'm tired I get more tactile than I am normally. If I'm shopping I will pet things/people.

I'm very easily amused. I will play with things, lately it's been a bit of memory foam we got in the mail. I can't leave it alone for some reason.

Okay I'm just babbling now. Mainly because I'm exhausted. Since I started out talking about my readership I'll do that a bit more. I lost quite a few readers when DX bit the proverbial big one. Given that I'm not always dirty, I don't show boobs, I don't really talk about politics or TV or celebrities I don't expect a huge number of readers.

I stopped for a bit and forgot my point.

Anyhow. I need to fix up my little links area there. I don't think my blogroll is big enough because I read a lot of blogs. And the ones I read regularly I forgot to put in my blogroll and the damn thing is kinda fugly. So next week I'll be getting my geek on and getting that side area fixed up some. Put the buttons all next to each other and whatnot.

Most of my point now is that I want this to be an interesting place with things to read aside from my own frequently inane rantings. So yeah.

And I think I'm spent my right eye feels gritty and looks like I've been poking myself in it. It's my right eye because that side of my face is in the direct line of fire of one of the nastier than nasty air vents so it takes the msot abuse.


Homo Out.

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Interweb explorations

So I've been doing some interweb cruising and I'm going to share my links of doom.

Fair warning some of these are adult in nature.

Doing a little fantasy shopping to get my mind of off other troubles.

A little bloggy exploration.

Let's cover shopping first just in case some person with more money than they know what to do with wants to buy me shiny things.

We all know by now that Shannon=bootwhore.

I could always use a pair of these fabulous boots. They are a staple I think. I used to have a pair of black velvety ones but I wore them so much they finally gave out. Not to mention they were a size too big and I had to put tissue in the toes.

I also really love the Demonia Jungle boots. Those would be fabulous for day to day wear. I love teh canvas upper on those.

The Demonia Multi Strap Reaper's make me wet. Those are some ass stomping boots right there. I'd wear them with something a little frilly.

Really I'm not so into huge heels anymore. Mainly because unless I do wind up doing a boot fetish tease site or start modeling (both a bit unlikely at this point) I'd have nowhere to wear them aside from around the house. That's not to say I couldn't be persuaded to do some club hopping but it takes preparation.

And oh my good LORD have mercy on me I want these latex stockings, Those are absolutely hot looking. I highly suggest taking a look round that site because Imp of Satan has some beautiful clothing. Mmmm shiny.

Color me impressed Howcool features an actual plus sized (well sort of plus sized, plus sized in the sense of being larger than their usual models) in one of their plus sized fashions. One of the more unfortunate things about most lingerie, fetish wear etc websites is that most of them don't use actual plus sized models.

The worst is when they use badly photoshopped pictures or worse have the product modeled on someone nowhere near the sizing advertised.

Fetish photography too is getting pretty boring to me. The standard body types really just don't do it for me. While I appreciate the beauty of a particular model and the skill of the photographer, I get bored. I can only look at so much ribs and hipbones before I just get bored. I find it very disappointing that something that has the possiblity of being so wide open still conforms to standard beauty ideals. Toss in some pale skin a few piercings or some latex and all of a sudden it's "fetish".

Okay now where was I? SHopping right-o.

I found a local company I really want some things from. Fetish Wear. Lovely stuff and sizing that isn't what I call LA sizing. Her size large isn't equivilant to a fucking size 6 and it's refreshing. Not to mention...OH shiny.

That makes me wonder if I can learn to sew with latex.

I'm distracted again.

Now for some blogs.

I read Mistress Matisse as I think I've mentioned before. From her journal I started reading her partner Monk who is a maker of fine hemp rope. His shop had a fire not too long ago but they are bouncing back and I'm really glad about that.

Good stuff.

I also read Black as My Soul. He is a very interesting man. I've read his journal for probably two years or so.

Okay while I've been writing this I've been doing some online sundry shopping and have come across something that really makes me angry.

An as yet unnamed website (not sure how much of a cow I want to have about it yet) has ONE black hair care product. One. Uno. They have everything else in the world you might want unless of course you're black.

Now I have a dilemma. I want the good prices on my cleanser, vitamins etc but it really makes me angry that they don't have any hair or skin care that I might want due to my blackness.

Being a conscious consumer and trying to do my little bit is really taxing sometimes. I'm poor so economics tend to win out over ethical/moral concerns with companies has to take a backseat. It's the same thing with food. Yes I love and support organic and sustainable farming and foods but, the shit is fucking expensive.

I just can't bring myself to pay more for two apples than I do for two meals for two people.

Being poor and having the want to be an activist and DO something rather than just complain about it really sucks sometimes.

Goddamn it my mood that was already sour to start with just turned worse.

Homo Out.

Monday, June 12, 2006

Blame The Words

I've been doing some reading lately that is fucking astounding. I wrote up a short review of the last Selby book I read I'll post it at the bottom of this entry. All I'm going to say is that Selby fucking kills me.

I'm really not feeling so hot tonight and I'm exhausted. I can't sleep for shit. Ah the sweet refrain of Shannon's rampant insomnia causing serious stabbyness.


Oh and lest I forget to post it again you can read my latest publication at Zygote In My Coffee, a poem entitled Bitches. Incidentally you can click on that and it'll open in another window. I discovered it's just easier to insert my target=blank tag that way.

Also I think I've got an idea about what I want to do with my life. Sort of. Aside from writing of course.

I have to share that though my new bag is very cute it is alas a little too small. It is not sized for oversized paperbacks which is a shame because I hate my readin list being pruned by book size.

I'm currently reading >Bang! by Rollins . I've been an avid Rollins fan for years both his music and writing. This book in particular though perhaps because of my mood burns. Reading him sometimes though it's painful it's enlightening. I'd like to wring his fucking neck sometimes. Not out of any sort of hatred or anger but more because literarily speaking his books are bloody and meaty. He reminds me and exposes me darkness I know intimately but, don't always want to look at in the face.

It hurts but it feels good.

Maybe I'm more of a masochist than I let on to. I do a lot of what can be termed as heavy reading. I want to read things that put a knife in my heart and leave it there. If I don't feel it in some visceral way it's just not worth it to me.

What else?

Yes it's another one of those entries. I'm exhausted and only have another hour and change of work. Trying to pass the time.

Is it just me or is Myspace like fucking smack? Try it twice and you're fucking hooked.

So I'm working on this series of erotic vignettes that are told from the point of view of a consort to the Gods/esses. Basically someone the Dieties in question created to screw. I've got quite the Pantheon going. Thus far I've started stories for Loki, Osiris and Isis, Pele (she is a kinky bitch), Odin and some others. The going on this is slow because the stories are sort of all happening at once in my head and it's fucking crowded.

Not to mention the LSD parable I've been working on for ages.

I usually keep writing related babbling relegated to LJ but since LJ can be such a fantastic slice of crap sometimes figured I'd share here as well for once.

I've also been reworking some stuff I've been doing for years now. Short story on that is it's a semi-Lovecraftian myth re-interpretation. Wow that sounded a little pretentious didn't it? Anyhow I've got almost thirty of these stories all together I think and wrote a new one sort of recently. It's a good one I enjoyed doing it.

Have a look at the new one here. Do remember however that it is as yet unedited. And not for the faint of heart.

I'd also like to share that I'm really unimpressed with having breasts right now since they are in my motherfucking way.

I've seen some very good films lately. I highly recommend the following: Inside Deep Throat. An excellent documentary about the ground breaking porn movie Deep Throat. Not for the kids. TransAmerica. A wonderfully non campy film about a m-to-f transsexual and her son. Excellent film. Those are the only two that I recall titles for at the moment.

I think that's it I blew my wad. Find my Selby review below. I think I'm going to email Henry Rollins and try not to fall out on the floor.

Homo Out.

The Room by Hubery Selby Jr. by Shannon Barber
The Room by Hubert Selby Jr is a slow painful ride into Hell. This isn't the path to the fiery pits but, to null. In this book Selby presents a man who is slowly and inexorably losing his mind in prison. The Room is no fast paced page turner, this book isn't for those seeking instant literary gratification. Both the pace and Selby's style of little punctuation and long thick paragraphs can make for a tedious read at times but, in my opinion this book is worth sticking with.

The Room delves into the sick fantasies of a man locked not only in prison but in his own head. His decline is vividly and painfully described in scenes that run the gambit from bittersweet memories of first sexual fumblings to highly detailed sado-masochistic visions of vengance. All in all The Room delivers. I recommend this book for those willing to take the long way to madness.

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Black Rage

Everyone should do my Johari window. It makes me feel loved.

Not much else to say really. My eyes are bothering me. Between the foul air in my place of employment and crappy contact lenses lets just say I am a snotty teary mess.

I have been cruising around and it's really astonishing how few black hair/self care companies do not have websites. I don't really understand that. They really should. If I was able to order more hair care products online I'd be all about it.

Oh wow I just groaned and sounded like a Yeti. It's probably a good thing I"m here by myself tonight.

What was I going to say?

Right black hair care products.

Another thing I find odd is that in most stores they smoosh everything related to being black into a specialty "ethnic" area. Skin care, hair care anything marketed specifically to black people all together there. With the exception of Pantene Relaxed and Natural shampoos. They get their own little brown area amongst the rest of the Pantene products.

Not one store has been able to tell me why they do that. If it's not scary to put the Pantene for black folks in with the other shampoos why not put the rest of them in the appropriate sections? I've gotten mealy mouthed answers usually to the tune of, "well it's easier to find if we put it all together." Whatever. Fuck off.

While i'm on the subject of things that chap my black ass let's talk about Amazon shall we?

I realize that they have whatever googlymook thing that comes up with their recommendations. Now based on what I look at on Amazon and wishlist would you (as a regular joe) start jamming my recommendations list with those fucking "urban" romance novels?

First of all I don't care if you're black or white or what. From what I've read a good number of those books are mother fucking asinine.

Second of all, why would you recommend me a romance novel when I have not purchased or expressed any interest in them in the past say six years I've shopped Amazon?

Third, just because the system has figured out I must be black (since I have some black hair and skin care books on my wishlist) that I MUST be a Christian who loves to read shitty romance novels and who needs to read everything related to the "urban" experience.

What...the..FUCK is wrong with these people?

It offends me in that "it took me about two weeks to decide how I feel about that" kind of way.

Is it unreasonable to expect a non human thing to keep with previous trends and put shit I actually would be interested in on my list or is that too much to expect. It's irritating.

If you've not read me or don't know me I do actually have a sense of humour about race and racism. Usually it comes out kind of mean. When I feel the stare, I will say things that make people nervous even though it shouldn't because I'm usually laughing at the time.

For instance in Fred Meyer's one day I was examining the label on something and this woman was just giving me this look that was half puzzled and half, "oh my god". Then as I walked past her I said to Byootiful, "I'm gonna lose it..."(I started skipping at this point and giggling)"black raaaage black raaaage." He laughed. Another lady laughed. The woman who'd been staring at me looked terrified.

I like making people squirm.

So anyhow getting off of my moment of black rage there I made myself a wishlist on Hips and Curves. If you don't know Hips and Curves is a fabulous plus sized lingerie webstore. They have hot drawers, hot models and meh prices.

My wishlist is here. Feel free to go have a looksy.

I don't know my measurements so I think buying panties from there might be risky. There is not as much junk in my trunk as could be.

What else?

I don't watch the show but I somehow wound up looking at The Tyra Banks Show page and wandered into her little journal. I am pleased to announce that Tyra Banks has a Dimply Booty. Have to love her. She's shown herself looking none too hot and I love her for her love of other women. Check out the link for her plus sized model search too. I can't hate a woman who loves bigger girls as much as I do.

I read the "news" about the big bad sex "cult" in the UK and was pretty disappointed to find it was just people into Gor. Mistress Matisse had interesting things to say about it. I mention it because I've just started reading her blog again after forgetting to read it for quite awhile. I have read her column in The Stranger for a very long time. I've always enjoyed that she's got a sexy brain.

The left sleeve of my sweater is wet and I don't know how I did it.

I think I'm going to have to go to Ebay to find some fucking sunglasses I like. I am highly photo sensitive and all the trendy sunglasses I've seen in the stores are way too light. I had the most fabulous pair of Jackie O Esque sunglasses that I actually had for almost four years before I broke them. I loved them so much.

*Insert moment of silence here*

When it comes time to get new glasses I think I'm going to have the same sort of problem. The glasses I love and that look good on me lean more towards horn rimmed and bigger as opposed to all the tiny wire frame weird lens shaped glasses around. I'd love to find a pair of vintage frames and have lenses put in them but way too many places just don't do that anymore. Nor I found is it less expensive than brand new frames. That sucks.

I am freaking exhausted.

And gmail just ate the email I was writing to Polly. Bloody hell.

Email tomorrow Polly.

I am going to pee on the floor.

And I think I'm spent.

Homo Out.

And remember kids right click and open in another window on my links so you don't have to go back and forth. or use Firefox.

Goodnight Sally.

Monday, June 05, 2006

People piss me off...

Oh the calamity that the interweb celebrity can bring.

The following isn't really directed at one individual but at quite a few I've run across in the Blue Nowhere.

Okay, maybe this makes me a snob and a mean ranty little bitch but, I don't really care. If you are going to run around all over teh interweb proclaiming how: beautiful, fabulous, intelligent, intellectual, sexy, professional, outstanding, unbelievably hot, smart, funny, talented, all singing all dancing, all super titty having, big dicked, evil, cool, bad ass, evil supergeniusly inclined, the hottest (insert thing here) anyone has EVAR seen, cash slinging, bling wearing son of a bitch there ever was.

During your ego mastubatory proclamation please for the love of things fluffy and sacred...


I realize that could involve cutting and pasting. It could involve using the Google tool bar, or any number of freely available places to find a handy little java script text box that will do it for you. But goddamn it if you are going to be the uber piece of internet ass next motherfucking superstar of the universe, please spell check it.

I cannot even begin to tell any of you how many myspace, lj, personal web spaces I have been through and been so disappointed I wanted to smash something.

Now I am the first to admit that sometimes my spelling sucks. Yes folks sometimes I spell about as well as a drunk monkey on acid trying to write in Aramaic.

But, I am also the first person to tell you that. If you've read any of my journals regularly I make fun of my own spelling all the time.

Now. If you the above made you giggle a little have no fear I am not talking about you. In fact I probably like you.

However, if you took offense and have decided that I am a mean, snobby cunt. Psst...maybe you should pop yer text into the spell checker thinger and know correct that shit?

To distill my ranty goodness here into one succint point. I have no problem with self confidence, no problem with bragging or even the occasional self exultation. But, please folks for the sake of my blood pressure and vision please- spell it correctly.

I am cross posting this to my regular journal.

Now...really goodnight Frank.

Thursday, June 01, 2006

Burn it all

I haven't done this in awhile but here's a little bit of what I've been working on the last couple of weeks. Call it, ghetto noir if you like.

A man stands atop the roof of a burnt out car, arms raised to the dark sky face tilted up at the stars, his blue eyes glowing like used up neon.

"Fear me for I walk amongst you."

The girl squatting over a corpse with her forefinger knuckle deep in what was left of its eyesocket looks up and shakes her head.

"Fucking dumbass. You finished?"

I wince when I see what she is doing and climb down carefully, my mouth screwed up, unable to look away.

"Jeeze what are you doing?"

The girl looks at me again, her eyes blank for a moment as if I'd said something to her in Cantonese.

"I'm trying to see if I can get ahold of his optic nerve. Those are chewy."

That's the new story.

And it's fair to say I'm pretty obsessed.

And I think I'm going to start calling Anthony Flame. Yes I find that fitting.

Lysergia folks I hope you're ok.

I love everyone right now.

Mainly because I'm high on antihistemines.

Homo Out.

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