Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Onto the Soapbox I climb.

I've been reading here and there various takes on Tower closing up shop. I worked at Tower here in Seattle in the U district for a time and frankly, (contrary to what I thought i felt about it) I am not entirely moved.

Probably due to the fact that I worked there. Granted there were none of the absurd Pep Squad tactics of say the Warner Bros. Studio store (where I also worked) but, for all the amusement and cool things there was a lot of bullshit. Not just the typical retail bullshit, I was used to that by that point. But doing a lot of work for minimum wage.

What always irked me that even though I was (and am) a gainfully employed hard working drone, I could not afford to shop there. They did not keep up. When someone at the store lamented about getting crushed by local competition when it came to large selling titles my response was fairly simple. Stop charging 1991 prices.

I did love that I could find pretty much anything at Tower. I loved that I could call the store in LA, talk to the boy who always said I had a sexy voice and he would often send me something. I liked getting free shit from record lables, I loved after the boss went home blaring NWA interspersed with Squarepusher. I loved dancing in the front window for tips (with a few other disgruntled employees) when we were not allowed to leave a half hour early on New Year's Eve.

But am I really sad to see it go?

No.

Another reason I'm not overly upset about it is the greasy feeling I had working there. At a look Tower was fantastic. Cool strange people working there, I could wear pretty much whatever, no one batted an eye when I (or any of the other employees) wore weird clothes or hair. But, underneath the uber-cool facade was the reality. Wage slaving for minimum wage and praying for a "promotion" to make that extra quarter.

Most of the people I worked with weren't slackers, most of them just to make it, had 3-4 roommates, ate shit food etc.

Actually let me stop here. My blase feelings about Tower are the same blase feelings I have about many companies.

Too much expectation for too little payout.

I'm sure many of you gentle readers know what I'm talking about.

You take a job, whatever job you have and (at least from personal experience) most have the rah rah "give 110%" type credo of one sort or another.

Sell more!
LOVE the customers!
BE the BEST!

However when it comes time to pay you for your efforts, you're presented with what amounts to a drop in the bucket. I don't believe that people are poor simply because they don't work hard enough. I think many people are and remain poor because working doesn't pay the bills. Let me put it this way, if you're making 24k a year as a customer service rep. and where you live the median income to live is around 36K a year, do you really make enough money to give a tin shit about your customer?

When you're scrambling to make sure the rent is paid, the phone is paid, the car is working, you have a bus pass etc etc etc, when you are sitting debating eating ramen for a week so you can pay your phone bill or just going without, would you care?

I don't.

I don't know how many people I know who work damn hard, who struggle and hustle just to keep a rented roof over their heads. What's the solution?

I think Big Business needs to take another look. What would be the best thing ever I think, (as suggested by Tupac Shakur) would be that the Haves trade places with the Have Nots. As in that book Nickel and Dimed.. If you make say 250K a year, you get to trade places with someone who makes 25K a year. You're a well paid whatever? You get to work at McDonald's or WalMart.

I'm not talking forever. Say 6 weeks.

I'm suggesting that the people who ostensibly run shit, need to be reminded if they've forgotten, or learn if they don't know how hard it is just to be a working stiff.

Now don't mistake here. This isn't about welfare, liberalism or even so much class issues. It's simply about practicality. I'll steal a line from Fight Club here and say, "we protect you while you sleep."

It's about understanding what the fuck is really going on in this country. It's about right and wrong.

I will step off of my soapbox now.

No wait back on it for a minute. I just read a post in a LJ community about the "low income lifestyle" what the FUCK is that supposed to mean? Being poor isn't a fucking lifestyle. I hate it when people try to be some cachet into economic motherfucking hardship. Worrying about being homeless isn't a lifestyle. Working yourself to death just to stay clothed fed and housed is not a fucking lifestyle. Fuck sake.

And now I'm spent. I am honestly not in a great frame of mind. Holiday malaise combined with a cranky tummy. I'm spent.
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Saturday, November 25, 2006

Unplanned hiatus etc

So I took another unplanned hiatus. No special reason really.

Right this instant I am currently scouring ebay for something cute to wear to the Christmas party. Thus far I am vastly unimpressed.

But the following lyric makes me feel better:

I got a cute face chubby waist....

Mmm Missy Elliot to the rescue when the ole girl here is feeling fluffy and fat.

The chub feeling (while yes based partly in reality) is also sort of in there with the fact that I'm fairly bloated today from week long stomach issues. That icky post stomach anger puff.

I'll get over it.

I'm really very tempted to wear something bordering on outlandish to the company giftmas party this year. Mainly because I missed Halloween and haven't worn anything remotely outlandish in a very eon.

I am leaning towards something gothic lolita ish(yeah I know enough with that already but i can't really help myself). I really like this skirt but a.)it's expensive and b.) I don't have the proper boots or top to wear with it.

I really need to either strike the lotto or find a much better paying job so I can dress in a more appropriately fabulous fashion. Because it would make me really -really- happy.

I also am still seriously jonesing about wanting to have some synth dreads installed. I still may wind up doing it myself after purchasing a kit or somesuch.

And I'm spent I'm still not entirely in the mood for this.

So yeah.
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Thursday, November 09, 2006

Useless Shannon Trivia.

Since I believe I am working up to a migraine I'm going to share some useless Shannon Trivia, however if the Pink Mafia gets you, you know nothing.

The first two human beings I was in love with as a kid were Freddie Mercury and the black dancer with the long legs and uber ponytail from the intro to Solid Gold.

When someone tried to explain to me that Freddie Mercury had a boyfriend I responded (in what would become absolutely typical of me) "I don't care I'll marry him too."

Just a wee Beasty and already with the polygamy and the gays. Is it any wonder I turned out the way I did?

when I was a little kid my Mom was a model for Joico hair products. And I was absolutely no questions asked ass over tea kettle in love with her stylist who's actual name I can't remember but who I called Ramone. I even rolled my r's back in the day.

I loved Ramone because when my mom went to him for looks prior to doing new headshots, he would sit me down in his salon in Tacoma, give me a butt load of make up and make up remover and let me make myself over for hours.

I never once made a mess, I never messed up his make up. I was in love and amazed that he'd let me play.

As a young child my favorite babysitters were two drag queens, a Hippie Bellydancing naturopath who had something like 6-8 kids, lived on a farm with llamas and often let me help around the house.

I was really really sad when all my friends started having their periods way before I did. I also had no boobs. I often prayed to some booby fairy to bless me with the boobage.

Mission accomplished thank you booby fairy.

I like boobies.

The first girl I had a crush on was in Kindergarden and she was a TA. I just loved that girl. I remember she wore a lot of pastel polo shirts and she had this slightly curly light brown hair that never ever stayed in a ponytail. And when I wore beads and braids she like them quite a bit.

Speaking of firsts, the first time I ever kissed a stranger it was a boy named Kevin at summer camp. I think it was the summer between fifth and sixth grades. It was the first day of camp and we were doing one of those "get to know you" exercises. We all wound up having to partner up and hold hands, or something and after someone said something to him about getting stuck with a girl he said he got to hold hands with the prettiest girl in camp and snuck a smooch.

My first summer romance. He spent much of the week and a half of camp giving me little things and trying to steal another smooch. It was all very cute and ended in tears and I'll write yous. I think I saw him on occasion after that around West Seattle.

That's all for the way back machine today.

And oh yeah go read my new fiction at Wretched and Violent.
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Monday, November 06, 2006

I thought I said NO!

Okay so the pants thing is okay now. I ordered some fabulous boot cut black pants.

In other news I've added David Beckham to the list of men I'd like to beat up theh give it to in the nono place.

Who else is on that list you ask?

I'm not telling you.

State secrets.

Okay I'm going to talk about Oprah for a minute. Oprah and her ilk of talk show let's all weep and hug and make it better.

I hate that everything is so SHOCKING and OMFG that's TRUE?

Seriously people. How many shows have you seen where one of the following has happened?

Host: So, why do you hate yourself and want to die?

Guest: I'm fat/ugly/stupid/etc.

Host: Oh *takes guests hand* but I think you're beautiful/smart/fabulous. Why do you really feel that way? Come on you can tell me I care about you.

Guest: *Starts to weep, lays head on hosts boob/shoulder/whatever* My Daddy/Mommy/Fourth grade teacher/kids at school/siblings/grandma/wahtever is always telling me I'm fat/ugly/stupid/etc.

Host: *Gets teary, not enough to run the pancake make up* I'm so sorry I had no idea, it's okay.

COMMERCIAL

Is it really that much of a fucking mystery that if someone is treated badly for whatever reason for years that they will be depressed/feel shitty about themselves?

It irritates me.

Even worse when the "guest" is gay/trans/bi/otherwise considered not normal and the host and audience only get happy when that person reveals the big trauma that made them so strange.

That sends such a shitty fucking message. If everyone else things you're "weird" you must have some big dark secret trauma that made you that way. Fuck that. Fuck it in the ear.

Anyway before I get pissed off.

I LOVE Shanna Moakler not only did she bust that silly bitch Paris Hilton in the face but come ON. Someone that throws punches and is that goddamn cute?

You know who else I'm in love with?

ProjectGay. Just go read it. Love it. Probably don't hump it because if you ruin the crease in their pants those bitches would probably cut you.

Go love them.

I just saw a blurb on Nerve that Will Self has a new book out.I really enjoy his work. And turns out he has a fabulous voice too. I'm listening to a reading from How the Dead Live and am enjoying it quite a bit.

I think I'm spent my allergies are acting up someting fierce and my bladder just said bitch please.

So yeah. Goodnight folks.

Homo Out.
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Sunday, November 05, 2006

Vanity be thy name.

So I'm in the middle of quite the dillemma. Well not really because I know what the right thing to do is I just don't want to do it.

So I need warm clothes. Pants mostly. And honestly I don't really care for how jeans look on me nor how the fit me. I know what pants I like but, I can't afford those. I could go to Target or Kmart and just buy stretchy lounge type pants. That would be smartish. I can wear tights under those for warmth but, really style wise I'm not all into them.

Unless they are of the stretchy bootcut variety wearing them with boots isn't all that cute and, I have to get new sneakers. That's the only winter appropriate shoes I have.

I'm really not happy right now.

I know that I could go downtown to Ross and buy a pair of sturdy jeans for probably around fifteen bucks.

But, I keep thinking about how much I don't care for jeans and it's upsetting. I've been wearing a lot of clothing that I just don't really like and that is not my style out of necessity for about five years and I'm frankly really tired of it. It's depressing.

It's not news that my self image and self esteem has been suffering for awhile now. I get in a funk because I hate denying a big part of who I am so I can make sure other things are done. I get depressed because really I hate feeling ugly. I hate wearing things that are not my style. I hate that most of my clothes don't fit properly or in a flattering way because I can't really afford to replace even the basics at a faster rate than a shirt or a skirt every couple of months.
Anyway.

As I just told my friend Cookie I'm just blowing air. I'll do what needs to be done. As in buy another pair of jeans and live with it. For the cost, durability, wamrth lounge pants can't really compete.

So yeah there you have it.
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Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Whores, my cervix and one of my heroes.

I was reminded to go have a look at one of my heroes websites today.

Annie Sprinkle.

I highly suggest checking out her 40 reasons whores she loves whores. Fantastic list.

I also highly recommend checking out her Love Art Lab.

I am also ass over tea kettle in love with Susie Bright. No seriously you people don't understand. Just reading her blog (linked above( I get giggly and feel mushy. If someone out there would like to buy me her podcasts I would cream my shorts.

Additionally if you'd like to buy me her photo book Nothing but the Girl: The Blatant Lesbian Image : A Portfolio and Exploration of Lesbian Erotic Photography . Cause yeah HI. That is some wonderful stuff right there.

While I'm on the subject of being so gay I'll share some fond memories of some of my favorite gay men.

One of them was during a night out at Neighbors. My Gayboyfriend and I were out dancing and drinking most all night long. I found these two absolutely gorgeous boys to dance with and while we were dancing, (me sandwiched between said hot boyness) someone said something about me being a fab hag.

One of the boys said: "Shit you're not a fag hag baby you are a fag."

So true.

I also just LOVED going to this local place called Sonyas. I wasn't an absolute regular but I had friends there. I spent a lot of time flirting, smooching, giggling, ogling and having my ego masturbated there. Lots of good memories.

Lots of good times there.

So my point mainly is that when I say things like, I am SO gay, I am super homo. I mean it because I am.

Whether or not I "seem" queer, or am running around fondling gay men and pining over hot butch dykes, nothing about my queerness changes. If I'm dating men or women or both at the same time nothing about the core of my being changes.

And okay back to my title I refer to my cervix. I highly recommend this to every woman to do at least once in her life.

At the gynecologist office ask if you can see your cervix.

I've seen mine and was amazed. It's one thing to have a theoretical knowledge of your own body but when you get to see something that generally only your doctor or your child being born is going to see it's very special.

I thought mine was quite cute.

Mine was pink and had a dimple. Just like yours. The little dimple looking thing is a hole called the Os.

While I'm on the subject of girly parts ladies. Look at your pussy. Make it a habit make it a practice. Get yourself a mirror at the dollar store, I like the round ones with the stand on them, aim it towards heaven and take a look. She is not going to bite or yell. She is not a scary place. She is a very important part of you.

I believe women should do this frequently for several reasons. Let's go with the sexual reasons first shall we.

How can you expect a partner to understand and enjoy your bits if you have no idea what's going on down there? Understand that no matter what your Mama said, or what your Daddy said, or what your sisters/friends/lovers/whomever said there is nothing wrong, ugly or weird about your cunt.

Look at her and appreciate her. Within those folds is the single MOST amazing organ in any human body. The Clitoris. Why did I capitalize that? Because my friends, the Clit is the only organ in any human being designed solely for pleasure. And oh what pleasures there are. But that's a whole other entry.

Moving on examine your labia. The clinical terms labia minora and majora are a bit of a misnomer. Many women I know their labia minora is longer than their labia majora. Myself included. Do not be alarmed. The fact is that I will venture to say, the vast majority of labia do not look all tucked in and even the way they tend to in magazines and movies.

That's not to say some don't but as will all things related to the human body labia vary in size, color, thickness etc. As many women as there are on the planet Earth, there are that many variations. And that is a wonderful thing.

Your pussy is beautiful and I encourage you to tell her so daily.

Now for the practical reasons.

The better you know your body the better chance you have of realizing when something isn't right.

I'm talking about when your discharge is off, or you have an itch, or hell if your skin is irritated from anything from soaps to detergents. If you know how your genitals look during the phases of your menstrual cycle how much easier would it be to know if that itch is just a random itch or if maybe you have a yeast infection?

You can be able to tell your gynecologist exactly what symptoms you may have instead of generalities. And it is empowering to take charge of yourself that way.

It saddens me that we (women) will spend so much time paying such close attention to our hair, our faces, how much our asses jiggle when we walk and then, turn a blind eye to our own genitals. Why?

Because of mis information.
Lack of education about how our bodies work and look.
Shame (perpetuated by "feminine hygiene" products and the like)
And the worst?
We leave it to someone else. Our doctors, our lovers, etc.

For all of us who never saw our Mothers naked. For all of us who had no one to ask questions. For all of us who have been shamed into thinking "down there" is a dirty smelly place. I say fuck that.

Fuck it right in the motherfucking ear.

Now.

Go out and find this book. And read it. Learn every bit of your mucosa, stray hairs, smells textures and everything else. You owe it to yourself. You owe it to your daughters.

Like everyone always says. Knowledge is power. Go out and get some.
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Paen to Frank Muller

I am listening to the Dark Tower Series by Stephen King on audiocd and am reminded again of (in my opinion) the best audio book reader ever, Frank Muller. I was really upset when I found out about his motorcycle accident and the thought that I would not hear him read anymore books was heartbreaking.

The less selfish upset was that he and his wife were expecting a child and I can't imagine how hard it has been for them.

I really enjoy audiobooks. Something my Mom started.

There is something very special to me about being read to.

Some books I can only palate when read aloud. The Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice. Her writing tends to grate at my nerves after awhile but read, I enjoy it. Except for Servant of the Bones. I am a total fool for that time period in history so I love that one.

Anyhow. My dinner is about ready and I am spent. I had a shitty day and want to lay down now. Goodnight.

Homo Out.
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