Thursday, December 27, 2007

Fat musings, end of year musing and etc.

I'm at work and getting my arse kicked at canasta on Pogo and I have musings.

Musing number one involves the whole Weight Watchers thing. I get why people are offended by WW "co opting" Fat acceptance parlance. I do. However I also get that some people do in fact need something like WW.

I know I know diets don't work, diets are anti fat yadda yadda. However I'm looking at it from a disordered point of view.

People who've had disordered eating and varying types of eating disorders don't know how to eat properly. Some people need something structured like that.

As far as the whole issue of the much loathed word diet and the constant barrage of DIETS DON'T WORK THEY DON'T WORK DON'T WORK I'm really over it. Honestly.

Yes I've read a lot of the linked articles studies and whatnot and it's not the fact that by and large diets don't work that bothers me, what bothers me is the hammering the DON'T part into people.

I don't like the idea that if you are fat and may want to be less so for whatever reason you run the rusk of being labeled a traitor. I really hate the idea that the minute someone says they are losing weight people stop listening. Or at least I get that impression.

Situational differences, differences in health etc shouldn't have to be the thing that makes it sorta ok but not really. If we can't listen to each other when someone is saying something unpopular or marked at not walk the line fat positive how is anyone else going to listen to any of us?

Sometimes I wonder if some empathy is missing. I think, no I believe there are lots of good not self hating reasons someone may want to lose weight. Should I make a list?

Say you're poor. You're poor and find that your clothes, the things you say need to wear to work are not fitting anymore. They are too small. You don't particularly hate your body, or hate being fat but you decide to lose a few pounds so your clothes fit because you'd rather say, pay your rent or buy food than have to buy new clothes. Does that make it okay?

What if you've got problem joints. And because of the pain in your joints your activity levels have dropped off and you've gained some weight. A lot of weight maybe and you're in a lot of pain. You don't hate being fat, you don't hate fat people, you hate being in pain. Maybe you know that 20 pounds might make your life a little easier. Do you get branded with that disappointment so many people express when someone fat decides to lose some weight? Is it right to have that dropped on your head? I don't think so.

This all goes back to my personal issue with the idea that you must toe the party line or screw you. Or worse not screw you but hey let me rescue you from your own horrid ignorance type thing. I really don't like that at all.

It's not really just Fat Activism but activism in general. I get very tired of hearing the party line and watching it bulldoze anything else someone might want to say. A huge part of my personality revolves around really listening and wanting to find out why someone does or says something.

I suppose I have yet to find my niche when it comes to activism and figuring out what role I want to play in changing things. I am not educated. I am not an aspiring journalist or gaining fame blogger. Yes I'm changing subjects a little keep up.

Since I started blogging regularly online some 5-6 years ago now back at Diary-x. I recall I never thought anyone would read it. These years later I still don't think about who reads it other than checking my stats for hilarious random google searches.

These days mostly as I'm ranting away I tend to think, I hope someone reading that gets it. I've discovered that the little tingly bit of me that had the idea for about ten minutes to want to be Teh Supa Blogger tm has piped down. I like my little sandbox just the way it is.

What else?

OH recently I had my first run in with a pair of boots that don't fit my calves. I walk a lot, and walk a lot of stairs and my calves are fine and big and muscled now. A few weeks ago I bought these fantastic Demonia boots:

Hotness. The foot/ankle area fits really well but my calf not so much. So Uniballer and I are going to DIY them to make them fit. Since I now have a digital camera we'll take pictures of the process.

I got a bit of a Christmas bonus this year so I bought these too.

On sale for less than 60$ shipped which is fantastic. The thing about goth boots to remember is that Unisex sized boots tend to be way more generous in the calf beceause typically men have bigger calves. However, this also means that the ankle part can be a bit wide. My solution for that is crew socks folded over to keep your ankles from getting irritated.

Stompy boots YAY.

Also fashion related my office holiday party was last Friday and I looked fucking hot. No pictures as of yet but they are coming Uniballer took a shitload of them.

I'm really looking forward to warmer weather right now. I don't have a car so my wardrobe in the winter is all about a.)keeping warm and b.)keeping relatively dry. So my cute factor has been suffering a little and I do not want.

In other news I just read a post at Feministing featuring the cutest baby on teh interwebs right now. Cute post, adorable baby and this is why I need to make myself not read comments. Why the fuck pick on the fact that the kid has an ice cream cone? What the fuck? It's only one comment but still. I don't have an account there so I can't comment but COME on man, why would you begrudge a kid a treat? How does she know if that's not just something the kid gets occasionally? Maybe the kid is teething and cranky and some chocolate covered ice cream made her/him better?


That is a cunty thing to say.

Homo Out.


Saturday, December 22, 2007

Baby Laughs.

Okay my kryptonite is baby laugh videos on youtube. If you don't crack up watching these there is something wrong with you.

And this one isn't a baby but it's a girl after my own heart.

And a little Tom Jones to round out the night.

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Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Stomping my way to the um..where I am.

I think I've fallen off of the Fatosphere feed again. That's ok. I don't really feel like my blog fits in for the most part.

In other news is it weird I get a little bit of glee because I am now an official regular at my favorite coffee shop? They know I always get a 16 oz Americano and often indulge in a slice of baklava or some other wee tasty treat. It does make my day a little better.

I was lazy last week and not eating enough, which caused me to be off of my vitamins and I started again on Sunday and goddamn what a difference it makes. For every time I've had a doctor tell me I'm wasting my money I just think about those weeks I've not been on them and been feeling like fried ass. I'm not back to my absolute regular schedule but I feel better.

Now for the random.

Links of the day:

The president of Guyana >shaking some booty. I love stuff like that. Every country should have high ranking officials who shake it. Why? Because I think people take everything way too seriously and it's nice to see someone in an important position show they are human and like to have a good time too. I find it repugnant that so many people expect politicians etc to be inhuman or to only show a little humanity sometimes like shedding a tear on CNN occasionally. Screw that.

OH one of the ladies from LCHF started herself a fabulous new lifestyle blog. Go check out The Savvy Sistah right now. No seriously go and I'll wait.

A word about LCHF right now. For those who don't know (which is most of you) it is a website for women of color to come and share knowledge about haircare and other things. It is the first 99% woman community I have been in that I really do feel actually comfortable. Granted you won't see me running around spouting the gay but, in most respects I am pretty comfortable. I've also learned so much, and that is very important to me because I really just did not know anything about taking care of my hair. I was fairly certain before joining there that I would be a crew cut/fade wearing lady for life.

Hrm OH I discovered the NWBellydance blog and I am so happy about finding that. Wow. Now if I can grow some fucking ovaries and take my barely knows how to shimmy ass to some of the events. Truth be told I'm nervous because I'm really not very good yet and I don't have any real bellydance gear. There are several reasons for that including the style of pants I like (think yoga pants with a lower waist and slightly bigger leg) are really fucking expensive. And they are really fucking expensive.

Honestly I have seen some very nice stretchy pants of this style and people want like 60-70$ a pair for them. Granted I appreciate hand made things. But I have made that kind of pant before and it is not that difficult and fabric unless you are using some super fancy fantastic ass loving velvet or something does not cost that much. I'm all for making a profit but goddamn man, don't these people know some of us are fucking not rich?

OH come on people I want more friends on Join me in my rampant nerdery. Check this here out.

my Goodreads shelves

I might try to jam a quilt widget thing in my sidebar but probably not. But COME ON man. It's fun.

Holy CRAP Nick Ashford (from Ashford and Simpson...don't front you know you remember them) is 65? Damn I had no idea. I love the song linked above.

What else?

Fuck the FCC again. Fuck them right in the fucking goat ass.

Also let me just say right now I am feeling like Ms Margaret Cho is sex on motherfucking wheels. She's got new photos up that I am in love with. I still really want some Assmaster panties.

Speaking of sex on wheels The (NSFW clearly. ) Red Sneaker Diaries make me squirmy in the pants. Via her journal I found Everyday Nakedness which is a collection of macro nude photos that I really like. That's the sort of thing I can get behind. Behind enough to maybe show my actual nakedness.

For ages I've wanted to do arty farty nudes of myself. I'm not entirely certain at this point if I want this to be a public type thing but, I do know that it's something I need to do if only for myself.

Okay that's enough. I want to make some tea and work on some fiction to distract myself from things that are Pissing Me Right the fuck off.

Homo Out.

Monday, December 17, 2007

Fat girl makes noise.

Lots to talk about.

I had an unexciting weekend that involved a lot of joint pain, a lot of growling and some really tasty pizza. Also there was hair washing and whatnot.

First up though Torrid and I are on the outs again. Who do I have to blow to find a pair of plain black boot cut mid/low rise jeans? I do not want sparkles on my ass. I do not want contrast stitching. I do not want weird washes.

I just want a fucking pair of black jeans.

Also Torrid, you people do realize that not all of the fly fat girls live in Cali right? Some of us live where it's cold enough to freeze off a nipple and your light satiny, breezy, thin wear is not made for that. I am so not speaking to you again until Spring.

Which leads me to my next issue. Where the hell do I find plain black non ass sparkle having boot cut jeans that aren't insanely expensive?

I am thinking a trek to Target and possibly *dread stare o fear here* the Gap may be in order. LB clothing doesn't fit me quite right sadly and I have no idea where else to go. I just want my ham to be warm.

I also am in absolutely desperate need of a couple of new bras. I'm dragging my feet about that a little bit because the three bras I really want are way out of my price range. And my price range is sucky. Big boobs+not a lot of $$=sad boobies.

And can we talk about something else fat fashion related?

I am really over people hating on "slutty, hoochie, whatever you want to call it". Why? Why do women do that? It really pisses me off. I don't care if you don't like the hoochie wear/appearance/presentation but don't get snotty with me because I do. The beauty of individuality is that we don't all have to do the same thing.

I look at it the same way I look at any other appearance related thing. What's rocking my world might make you want to puke but it's not necessary to make it into a moral issue. Additionally, it'd be great if there is a huge chasm between us, don't feel the need to ascribe your politics to my ass. Really.

If that means in your head you're calling me a slut whore for wearing whatever, I honestly don't give a shit. Really.

I'm over it.

What else?

I finally have a functioning digicam so I may or may not start myself a Flikr stream for outfits of the day. I will probably not post them on Fatshionista. I still enjoy Fatshionista but I'm finding more and more it's not really my cuppa anymore. I'm not entirely certain why. Something about the culture rubs my fur the wrong way and I can't put a finger on it and have been trying for months.

Hence if any of you who read me are there, I post like once in a blue moon.

I think part of it is the fashion as politic thing. I don't identify with that. There was a brief time in my life when I did but it felt unauthentic. My fashion doesn't revolve around my politics, nor do my politics (generally speaking) reflect my fashion.

I like a lot of fashion. I am into a lot of looks. However a lot of the looks I enjoy I am not sunk into the culture. Take the whole Lolita thing as an example. I'm entirely uninterested in the squabbles about what entails working Loli properly, nor am I interested in any sort of elitism that i have seen on some of those communities.

Essentially if I think it's cute I will wear it.

That's not to say I don't get into the culture my fashion comes from at all. Matter of fact fashion has led me to explore things that culturally speaking I probably wouldn't have ever thought to.

I don't know where I'm goin with this.

I'm getting tired. My body is aching in a way that makes me want to punch each offending area repeatedly.

However I do look very cute today. I'm sporting high mini buns, cat eye make up with a little glitter, some berry sparkly lips, grey cashmere sweatervest I got on sale from Target for 5$ (WIN), black Express wide legged trousers thrifted from Goodwill and my docs.

I'm cute.

And very gassy because I drank milk last night. I am lactose intolerant but sometimes I crave milk so bad I want to cry and soy just don't cut it.

So I'm going to drink chicken soup, drink water and continue to cruise ebay for make up super deals.

Homo Out.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

You tubery.

How much can you extrapolate from the following videos and let me say I fucking love each one.

Oh. My. God. That's all I'm gonna say.

Hayl to the yeah.

Mmmm sing it.

Yeah. Hotness. Rawr.

One more just because the vocals are gorgeous.

That's all you get. And YAY for meds kicking in.

Homo Out.
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Monday, December 10, 2007

Princess Rantypants calls bullshit.

I have a homicide inducing migraine and have for three days so I put on my rantypants.

Buckle up.

First let's talk about how much I never want to see the word diversity again.

di·ver·si·ty /dɪˈvɜrsɪti, daɪ-/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[di-vur-si-tee, dahy-] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation
–noun, plural -ties.
1. the state or fact of being diverse; difference; unlikeness.
2. variety; multiformity.
3. a point of difference.

Ok so most of us grown up types probably know what diversity means. And you like me probably hear and see it all the time.

Quite frankly I'm over it.

Not the idea of diversity when it's a real thing what I'm over is the self congratulatory tone many people adopt when they invite one of "them" into the sandbox.

What I see more and more are people patting themselves on the back soundly when they pretend like they are really going after diversity. Groups talk about inviting (accepting, tolerating) people who are unlike themselves. I read a ton of random artist blogs and they pat themselves when instead of the thin model with biggish boobs they photograph/paint/whatever the thin model with small boobs.

Granted yes everyone has to start somewhere but, that does not mean once you have a minority or someone else not made in your own image in your immediate vicinity that does not mean you have magically become some uber diversity having fabulous whatever. It really doesn't.

I am talking about a very specific thing here. Example.

Not too long ago I was reading some random photography forum I found on Google and they had a very interesting thread about diversity in a persons work. Do you try to out pace your own aesthetics? Do you open up your eyes a little wider? Some people had interesting things to say but what got me was one jackhole (male or female jackhole I don't know) who went on at great length about his/her diverse portfolio and "daring" use of non traditional models.

So I went and had a look at the provided link and well. It pretty much went like this, tall thin blond big boob having lady, tall thin big boob having redhead lady, tall thin/sculpted bald headed gentleman, shorter thin smaller boob having lady, etc. You get my drift. I spent a good long while looking at this artists photos and the theme repeated over and over.

Yes, this photographer does have an eye for lighting and texture. Yes the photos were very lovely but are you fucking joking? Are you serious about this diversity thing?

I want a new rule. You cannot crow about your diverse anything if save for a detail or two the people you are bragging about including are fairly interchangeable in a surface manner. No really fucking stop.

I am really not trying to be wanky but come on. I actually did email the photographer and was very polite about asking if they are serious about this claim to being a "lover of all types of beauty".

Princess Rantypants calls fucking bullshit on that.

That was about two weeks ago and I've gotten no response.

From that I want to move onto a little race talk.

I am a black woman. I know probably a lot more about my genealogy than a lot of people. I am also acutely aware that there is no way right now to know past a certain point.

That all said if ONE more person says that I am exotic looking I will probably punch them with my exotic looking small fists. I have experienced way too many people who cannot simply accept that someone of a different race is just pretty or nice looking or whatever. There is so often that extra, "so exotic". For the record, that can be really insulting and makes me think you are a moron.

Say I'm interesting looking, say I love nice eyes, say I have lush lips, say I have a fucking banging body but that exotic shit does not fly with me at all. Also, don't comment on my hair in a way that lets me know you're surprised a black woman has pretty hair.

Just fucking don't.

I have heard it from (I'm seriously giving the benefit of the doubt here) well meaning people and I honestly don't always have the time to be the Educating Black Woman. However I am more than happy to make sure you understand you said something fucked up.

This principal applies all over the place. If you are one of those people who will get a shocked look in your eye and then say, "oh you look so nice" and leave the "for a (insert whatever here)" the person you're speaking to will probably hear that unspoken part and like you a little less for it.

If you really don't think a fat person/person of another ethnicity/whatever the difference is, is in fact capable of beauty keep your fucking trap shut. And maybe have a good long look in the mirror because you might have the word douche on your forehead.

More on the subject of shock I've said this before and I will say it again. If I EVER hear the following words with a raised eyebrow or astonished glee I will stab the person who said it:

"You are so well spoken."

I have done lots of work over the phone. Customer service type, help line type and not once has anyone ever said that in that particular tone. However I have had it when I've shown up for a job interview, met a customer face to face etc. I've heard it in public on the bus. I've heard it from random people and my response is always (and has been for at least a decade) the same.

"Is there some reason I shouldn't be?"

Which invariably leaves people stammering about how non-racist they are.

Fuck off. You have predjudices and I am not impressed that I have made the "good negro" impression on you. Matter of fact I could give two shits less.

There are ways to give this kind of compliment without being a douche. Example:

I was standing waiting for the bus when a lost tourist from Athens GA stopped to ask me directions, I gave them to him and asked if he was from Georgia to which he nodded. We exchanged a few very Southern type pleasantries, he called me Miss and started to walk away. He turned back and walked back over to tell me that I have an "absolutely beautiful speaking voice" and should be doing voice overs.

See the difference there? I'm sure at least most of you do.

I have also had random people tell me how "proud" they are that I am such an avid reader. Generally older people and it's always that slightly infantalized tone you might use with a precocious four year old.

"That's sooooo great you read so much."

In writing it doesn't come across but once you hear the tone of surprise and misplaced pride, you remember it.

I'd rather you tell me you think it's cool. Tell me you envy my ability to concentrate. Tell me I'm a fucking nerd and give me a wedgie but spare me the "oh look what the Black girl can do" tone. Fuck off.

What next?

Um. I'm not sure. I'm really tired of hearing a lot of things. I'm tired of getting the message that my love of things like make up and whatnot somehow make me less than or somehow makes me ignorant to something.

I really fucking hate that. I really fucking hate people putting their reasoning into my actions. I've heard that sort of thing from pretty much every corner of life and pertaining to everything about me. My clothes, my hair, my love of super girly things like glittery eyeliner and finding that perfect mascara, my shoes blablablablabla.

If you don't know me intimately, as in you cannot finish my sentances or know when I'm going to yell NO randomly as I am wont to do, then don't presume you know my reasoning for anything. Ask me. If you ask in a polite manner I will probably answer in the same way.

I think I'm done. My head really hurts and I need some tea and a snack.

Also welcome folks from Tribute to Black Women. Feel free to look around.

Homo Out.



Thursday, December 06, 2007

Vox Humana

The Fatosphere is atwitter today over some remarks then follow up remarks from Dan Savage. Read what Rachel over at F-Words said. Frankly I'm a little surprised that anyone is surprised by anything anti-fat, fat hating, or woman disliking Dan said. The last round of this sort of thing I said I was over Dan Savage a long time ago and nothing he says (or has said) has changed that.

Are people who have read his columns for years at all surprised by his attitude? Come on now. It's nothing new.

I stopped reading most advice columns years ago. Generally the advice makes me cringe or wonder what the hell kind of Stepford bullshit people are really falling for anymore.

In other news a few clearance sales ago I picked up a cami from Torrid and it's very cute on the hanger but the fit is amazingly awful. The straps are insanely too long which causes the front to drop past mid boob. Either the size is mislabeled or it is really sized that horribly.

What is going on with Torrid these days?

My homie Cookie bought a swim top that is way way too short.

Um helloooo what the hell?

Also why the hell is it so damn hard to find a pair of plus sized black jeans? Especially from Torrid. I don't get it. You can get skin tight magenta fucking skinny jeans but not something as basic as plain bootcut mid/low rise black jeans.

I do not approve.

However I am still on the hunt and I might have to go to the damn Gap. I hate the Gap I really do but damn it I want a pair of boot cut black jeans.

Also I am not really thrilled that Torrid doesn't seem to realize that some people don't winter in LA. Why in the midst of cold weather season does so much of the stuff look flimsy or thin or sleeveless. I don't know what kind of fatties they know but I do not want to go outside in 40 degree weather with no sleeves.

Torrid you fail. We are on a break. Not breaking up but close. don't piss me off bitch or I'm dumping your ass.

So for winter gear I turned to Goodwill. I found some really great sweaters at Goodwill and that was exciting.

Also Seattle area fatties check out the clearance racks at the Westwood Target. Lots of plus sizes jammed in there once you get past the fug retro sweater/puffy vest things.

Gods but those things are fucking ugly. Like 1975 puked on itself after eating spinach and poo.

Now for Youtubery because I got the idea from Mrs Oro.

First up Melissa Etherige. This is an amazing older performance. I want to have her love children.

And um Tom Jones. My favorite Tom Jones song evar. Makes me wanna dance around nekkid.

And one that is not work safe but I lurve it anyway. A fabulous girl pole dancing. Love it.

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Wednesday, December 05, 2007

More reasons why I shouldn't talk to strangers.

Picture this-

I am on the bus on my way to work, reading my book and sipping coffee. This kid turns from the seat in front of me and sticks his head over the divider way too close and says,

"What you reppin girl what you reppin?"

I arch an eyebrow. Lower my book enough so he can see my STFU glare and respond deadpan:

"Vox Celeste, homie."

He gives me a puzzled look, nods and leans back away from me. I resume reading my book.

These are things I say to people.

I was cruising google not too long ago and did you know that there are black people in some of Heironymous Bosch's paintings? Also in a lot of other paintings of the same era. Now generally Africans were portrayed as Magi which is fine with me but that's pretty damn cool and I did not know that.

I also spent some time reading about some black entertainers in the burlesque world. Very eye opening. Read that here.

Matter of fact read her whole site it's very enlightening and educational.

I actually took a minute to write her an email.

What else?

Also why the FUCK did I miss the Sex Worker's Art show? Um wot? Granted it was in Oly but I would've spent four hours on public transport to get there. Seriously. I'm upset I missed that. Go look at the website and if it comes to your town check it out.

I really hope they do it again next year and I will go.

OMFG and I missed Sister Spit? what the FUCK is going on here?

I really need to start reading the 'alternative' papers and whatnot again. How am I missing these things? I also missed Lydia Motherfucking Lunch being in town.


Srsly. When I heard she'd been in town I sat and had a weepy moment.

I also really need to read "It's So You: 35 Women Write About Personal Expression Through Fashion and Style" edited by Michelle Tea. One of the blurbs says:

It's So You emerges from third-wave feminism, which celebrates not only the frivolity and playfulness of women’s fashion, but also the daring aesthetics of sex workers, out queers, and fashionistas. Contributors include Six Feet Under Producer Jill Soloway, transgender icon Kate Bornstein, Sonic Youth's Kim Gordon, poet Diane di Prima, NPR regular Sandra Tsing Loh, novelist Beth Lisick, Calvin Klein model Jenny Shimizu, actress Laura Fraser, and writer/herstorian Trina Robbins.

I can get behind that. Srsly.

So now my darling five readers, tell me more about what I can read about this Third Wave Feminism. I've shied away from reading feminist books/anything for the last few years because, frankly none of it spoke to me.

I do not want sitting around arguing about eyeliner kind of feminism. I want the kind of feminism that gives the finger, says cunt a lot and is not afraid to masturbate a lot. I want feminism that will do a crotch grab while yelling fuck you.

You get me there?

The first person to mention RiotGrrl gets their foot peed on. Being a Seattle lady I have heard that term way more times than is ever needed. Really no more.

Judicious use of the phrase may be acceptible.

I also want the kind of feminism that isn't so amazingly centered on white middle class people who only academically know what suffering is. I'm talking about people who don't really know what it's like to be down and out. The kind who'll look down their nose at you when you are buying your 10 for a dollar ramens, then proceed to tell you how bad you are for not using htat dollar to buy half an organic apple. Fuck that.

Also, no anti sex. I don't want to hear about how sex is bad and sex work is bad and what I do with my cunt is bad. Do. Not. Want.

Now another thing I want to know is if my criteria here just automatically shuts down a lot of options? I have no idea. I have my own ideas about feminism. That is a question I've been pondering.

I don't expect anyone to answer my questions honestly. But I do like to think it over and let it all percolate.

Also I am real enough with myself to know that I am kind of a weirdo and that's just fine.

Speaking of weirdness I've been nesting like a motherfucker again.


I am pining to make my apartment Uniballer and my super goth lair.

Poor Uniballer.

So far I made him hang my giant skull named Mathilda up on a wall. I have plans to make him make me a coffin shaped thing to store my BPAL in that I can hang up.

I also need NEED a shitload of neat candle type things. I've been haunting the dollar store and have some really nice ones.


I've also got a serious yen for accessories. I haven't seen too much that made my heart go pitter pat but I've seen a few things I think I would like to wear. Mostly I want to wear rings again. I lost quite a few in a household move and would like to have them back. Or at least reasonable replacements. Although I had one that I loved and is irreplaceable. It was a pretty wide tarnished gold band with runes on it. Very nice.

Ok I think that's enough for now I need dinner and water and vitamins.

Homo Out.

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Sad Beasty.

So I found a fantastic blog (that I am reading the archives for right now) and she doesn't update anymore.

Bla (c) Kademic I am really sad she's not updating anymore.

Really sad.

If you read nothing else go read this entry and watch the clip of Nikki Giovanni. I would lay at Nikki Giovanni's feet if I thought I could glean some knowledge through her toes. Seriously.

Reading about some of the shit that people said to Ms. Nubian it makes me pretty thankful that my sandbox is pretty small here and truthfully hardly anybody reads it. That's pretty okay with me. Most of the people who wind up here get here from random google searches (which cracks me the hell up) so I don't get a lot of targeted harassment.

Since DX died I don't get a quarter of the random weird comments/emails. And insanely I've never gotten the racist card pulled on me. Homophobes? Check. "Concerned" religious folk? Check. Random weirdos who ask to see my boobs, "prove" myself to them in some weird way, other weird sexual requests. Check.

But not so much of that anymore.

All this of course leaves me feeling more than happy to say whatever the fuck I want.

A fantastic feeling.

So I've decided that I am not going to read comments in any of the blogs I read anymore for the most part. Mainly because I find myself saying a lot of the time, are you shitting me?

Or um, wot? WHUT?

So I am stopping. It's not worth the annoyance and whatnot.

Also I think I need to change my blog list that I read around a bit. I find myself doing a little too much eye rolling. I don't want to read things that only annoy me or make me want to know, who cut off your sense of humor?

Enough of that.

I am trying to work on a project for work and honestly my brain fu must be broken. Also my photoshop skills. Good LORD. Ever just want to remove your brain, dunk it in hot water and see if that helps dislodge the sludge in it?

While I'm talking about brain sludge ever have one of those moments where you look at another human being and just sort of blink? Ever had someone else's stupidity make you go um..wait you...uh...WHAT?

The other day while I was waiting for the bus I listened to this apparently serious conversation between two people. Their main thrust was how intolerable riding the bus is because "they" are on it. When the bus pulled up I discovered that the "they" these two geniuses were probably talking about were you know. average people.

They did that thing that if you use public transportation I know you've seen. The purse clutch, slight nose wrinkle then the wide eyed looking around in horror because they might have to sit in a seat with someone not wearing expensive clothes. I just shook my head.

Some people really should just buy a fucking car.

OH before I forget I don't know if I mentioned that I was having a hell of a time finding some shoes to go with my fabulous party dress for the office Christmas party. Sunday Uniballer and I went to Target and I found shoes.

I was really torn between some fantastic snakeskin print high heeled boots from Payless and some adorable round toed bow having wedges from Target. The wedges won out mainly because I know I'll wear them again. I'm still a little torn between fishnets and some other kind of fabulous hosiery.

So far the outfit looks like this:

The earrings and the hosiery may change I have yet to make up my mind.

As for hair and make up I just learned how to flat iron my hair so I might go with a lovely little chignon and a swoop of bangs that are pinned so they don't quite get too much in my face. Make up, I'm thinking very dramatic big smokey eyes and some sexy super glossy nude/pinkish lips.

I am very in love with the Mac lipglass Bare Fetish. Alone it's really lovely but paired with my Avon lipstain in Bitten it is fabulous. My only gripe is that lipglasses are so freaking thick. Thick and sticky and I don't like that so much.

My trick for super wet vinyl shine and wearability without weird sticky mouth is to put a little layer of this super cheap clear lipgloss I got from Walgreens.

I think I am about spent. I have soup to eat and tea to make.

Goodnight folks.

Oooh wait before I go let me pimp my hair journal real quick like. If you were ever curious about how this black woman (who started out not knowing what to do) goes about learning to care for her hair read it. I also do some product reviews, post recipes for DIY hair treatments that can be good for anybody. I'm the Fluffy Lover.

Fluffy homo Out.

Monday, December 03, 2007

Quality time.

I spent some very quality time with myself over the weekend. Most of it consisted of detangling my hair then relaxing it, then using henna on it.

I found the whole thing very very soothing.

I am really enjoying getting back into what can loosely be called kitchen witchery.

Next weekend I am making some herbal infusions and a possible decoction but I haven't decided on the latter yet.

I'm also trying very hard to take better care of myself. I've adjusted the supplements I take and that seems to be helping.

A word about vitamins. I take a buttload of vitamins mainly because my diet is very erratic and I don't want to be malnourished because I've got a taste for tasty instant soups (the ones made by Thai Kitchen are the bomb diggity) for a whole week.

I also don't eat breakfast and all things considered don't eat near regularly or enough. I'm working on that.

I am really excited about this next weekend. No, I'm not going to go out and party with Leather Daddy's. I am going to make myself some Amla infused oil. Some shikakai infused oil for cleansing my hair AND most exciting I am going to try a recipe I just thought of for my face.


You all have no idea how much I love this sort of thing. I had no idea how much I missed mixing up my little self care concoctions until I started doing them again. I also need to start studying up on herbs and things again since the knowledge I had has mostly flown from my poor brain.

I also need to get myself a little binder for my recipes and whatnot.

Now if I had room and the ability to garden and grow my own herbs I would be in absolute heaven. However, I have what's commonly known as a black thumb. Plants hate me. I coo at them and play them Beethoven they wilt and die. I very nearly killed my Mom's garden while watering it. How? NO idea.

I have never in my life had a plant that lasted. I have killed more cacti than I should admit to. To plants, I am THE DESTROYER.

So that means I have to buy my herbs. Which is ok. I know gardening is not a gift I possesses and I am finally fine with that.

What else?

Can I talk about bellydance here for a minute?

I am still getting such a slow start because of my crappy joints and back but I have hope. I just have to take it slow.

And in conclusion I still LOVE Asharah. I wanna dance like this when I grows up.

And now homo out I have writing to do.

Friday, November 30, 2007

Book Meme FTW

A book meme, full o' classics and other stuff.
The rules: bold what you have read, italicize what you started but couldn’t finish, and strike through what you couldn’t stand.

The Aeneid

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
American Gods
Anansi Boys
Angela’s Ashes : A Memoir
Angels & Demons
Anna Karenina
Atlas Shrugged
inThe Blind Assassin
Brave New World
The Brothers Karamazov
The Canterbury Tales
The Catcher in the Rye
A Clockwork Orange

Cloud Atlas
Collapse : How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed
A Confederacy of Dunces
The Confusion
The Corrections
The Count of Monte Cristo
Crime and Punishment
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time
David Copperfield
Don Quixote

Eats, Shoots & Leaves
Foucault’s Pendulum
The Fountainhead
Freakonomics : A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything
The God of Small Things
The Grapes of Wrath
Gravity’s Rainbow
Great Expectations
Gulliver’s Travels
Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius
The Historian : A Novel
The Hobbit
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
The Iliad

In Cold Blood : A True Account of a Multiple Murder and its Consequences
The Inferno
Jane Eyre
Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
The Kite Runner
Les Misérables
Life of Pi : A Novel

Love in the Time of Cholera
Madame Bovary
Mansfield Park
Memoirs of a Geisha
The Mists of Avalon
Moby Dick
Mrs. Dalloway
The Name of the Rose

Northanger Abbey
The Odyssey
Oliver Twist
On the Road
The Once and Future King
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s N
One Hundred Years of Solitude
Oryx and Crake : A Novel
A People’s History of the United States : 1492-present
The Picture of Dorian Gray
The Poisonwood Bible : A Novel
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
Pride and Prejudice
The Prince
Reading Lolita in Tehran : A Memoir in Books
The Satanic Verses
The Scarlet Letter

Sense and Sensibility
A Short History of Nearly Everything
The Silmarillion
The Sound and the Fury
The Tale of Two Cities
Tess of the D’Urbervilles
The Three Musketeers

The Time Traveler’s Wife
To the Lighthouse
Treasure Island

The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Vanity Fair
War and Peace
Watership Down
White Teeth
Wicked : The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West
Wuthering Heights
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Matenance : An Inquiry Into Values

Now really homo out.
Tags: ,


On the D List Baby!

Finally I have something in common with Kathy Griffin aside from a foul mouth.

D-List Blogger


The Low Authority Group [D-List Bloggers]
(3-9 blogs linking in the last 6 months)
The average blog age (the number of days that the blog has been in existence) is about 228 days, which shows a real commitment to blogging. However, bloggers of this type average only 12 posts per month, meaning that their posting habits are generally dedicated but infrequent.

That's really funny to me.


Today I actually want to ruminate on beauty. First go read this Margaret Cho entry...I'll wait go ahead.

Back now? Fabulous.

I love beauty. I love it and find beauty everywhere constantly. I'm one of those people you'll find staring open mouthed at the grain of the sidewalk or something glittery fluttering in the street.

In people I find I have a serious love for odd looking people. Overlarge features, strangely canted mouths. However I'm not really super picky I can find something beautiful about most people.

However if you're an abject douche I will probably think you are fug.

Oi my friends I am a tired little Beasty.

I want to go home, put my jammies on and drink some beer.

So that's about it for me. Although you can go read my second ever attempt at a screenplay here in my El jay. It is entirely based on what goes on in my head when I'm way over tired.

And goodnight.

Homo Out.



Wednesday, November 28, 2007

My Fantasy of Thin.

Kate Harding wrote an excellent post called The Fantasy of Being Thin. It got me thinking.

As I've said before I've been to the magical Land of Thin and far beyond it to the Scary Land of might have a fucking heart attack anytime now. A lot of it was very unpleasant.

And (don't mind me poking my head out of the closet for a moment) I have a history. I've intimated and I am not yet at a point where I am comfortable or ready to start talking openly about it in public but there you have it. In case you've wondered.

I wondered for a long time if I'd really let the whole Thin Fantasy go. Shockingly I did a long time ago.

However for me this wasn't really any great feat of body acceptance. It was mainly something I arrived at because I caught a good long look at myself and realized that I looked fucking weird. All those "when I'm thin" type thoughts pretty much vanished under the far larger thought of, "Holy SHIT I look like a fucking alien."

My fantasies about being thin were all just that. Thin. They could not hold up under reality.

Along this same train of thought I read an article in Heart And soul Magazine a magazine aimed at black women that finally turned me off to it.

I had a subscription for about a year and a half and learned to gloss over the Christian articles. And the frequently after school specialesque articles about drug addiction but, their list of reasons why thin is so great pissed me right the hell off.

Each of their reasons was so thin. Essentially if you lose weight they promise you'll get laid, wear nice clothes, have friends and not die. Okay. sure.

But what they don't say is that if you're a fat asshole you'll probably be a skinny asshole and therefore your popularity will probably suffer.

They actually put in that stupid fucking Oprah quote about how "nothing tastes as good as thin feels" or whatever it was. Are you fucking kidding me?

Are you SHITTING me?

Do these people seriously think that shedding those magical pounds will suddenly turn you into the black belle of the ball? Do black women not have enough mother fucking problems you have to introduce this kind of blatant asshattery?

For fuck sake.

So I wrote an angry letter and will not be reading that magazine ever again.

Also I have to say I've not slept in awhile and my temper is really short. So that contributed but it is still bullshit.

And while I'm talking about things I think are janky can we discuss some things? Me to you.

Please put an end to cullottes. Please. We can all work together to make them just go away.

Also, can we finally just agree to disagree about ruching on boots? Ok.

In other news. Christina Aguilara is SO fucking cute all pregnant. So cute. Cute cute cute.

And, Mac lipglass in the color Bare Fetish is the bomb fucking diggity.

I'm wearing a Torrid sweater material cami that is seriously made of fail. I got it a few clearance sales ago and haven't worn it. Why is one of my boobs almost falling out? I think 50% of the problem is that the straps are not adjustable and are too long. Big boobs doesn't equal saggy boobs.

I'm really still very tired.

Also the tights I have on are doing something weird and slightly pinchy in the crotchal region and I don't approve. it it wasn't so cold I'd just take them off.

Also the skin on my face is still really unhappy and I think the Cover Girl powder I'm wearing is making me break out. I'm mysteriously itchy.

But I do actually look pretty goddamn cute.

I'm wearing a long black Lip Service skirt, the cami of doom and my long black sweater coat, burgundy Docs.

Make up that's supposed to be gold and black but this shade of gold comes way close to being a duplicate of Mac pro pigment chartruese. I'm a little unhappy about that since I wore that and another shade of green yesterday.

And can I just say to the DJ's out there. You do some cool stuff but seriously not everything needs to be fucking remixed. Some things remixing just ruins.

Ugh I think I'm done. My "writing" is not going well at all and I'm depressed about that. For comfort I ate some very tasty sushi earlier and have two organic red pears for later and a salad.

It's not helping entirely I am meh. Discouraged.

So yeah.

Also pictures coming soon. I had to return another fucking broken camera but have a nice one on the way.

That is all.

Homo Out.


Monday, November 26, 2007

A tribute to a seducer.

For all of the insane strange sex I've had in my life, I've not been one to be easily seduced by many. I don't typically enjoy the game of seduction. At least not from scratch.

However, I have never shied away from playing the role myself. In fact I have more than once prided myself on my ability to play the game and get myself into the pants of someone.

Except for a boy let's call Blue. So called because htat was his favorite color and he wore something blue (other than his hair) every single day.

Blue and I met randomly in the UW Bookstore while each muttering while perusing some shelf or another. There was no instant tzzzt electrical connection between us. I thought he was attractive but at the time I wasn't really into the penis. But that didn't stop me from accepting his offer of coffee at the coffee shop where we could smoke and talk about books.

Now we all know I am an absolute sucker for the big brains, bonus points if said brains are presented in a charming funny way. He delivered.

We spent a very long afternoon and evening lolling in uncomfortable chairs, drinking coffee and smoking many cigarettes while we debated the merits of going out of your way to buy UK imprints of British authors (I am firmly PRO going out of your way), and he wound ihs way to flattery.

I may occasionally say that flattery will get you everywhere with me but it's seldom true. Yes you might get to touch a boob or see one but as for actually getting me naked or opening the door to naked probably not. However he was clever enough to sprinkle his flattery of my skin and lips, right in the tasty mix of glowering at me for my strong opinions on ugly over decorative typeface in books.

I was pretty well able to keep it in my pants at that point. We made arrangements to hang out after I got off of work a few days later. Instead of the U district we headed for one of my favorite (at the time) dives the Hurricane and drank more coffee and lolled in banquettes smoking and giving each other the eye.

This is where the serious seducing started. He draped himself in my lap in the booth, normally I don't exactly want to cuddle with strangers but I humoured him. He demanded to be stroked and petted, fed French Fries which made me laugh. But what did it ladies and gents was the habit he had of running his fingers up and down the inside of my forearm while we talked.

That doesn't work for everybody so don't get any funny ideas. Some people that would get punched in the neck but he was rewarded with a little more unspoken permission.

We saw each other a few times a week for about a month. He was very quick to notice when whatever sort of petting he was doing made me the slightest bit squirmy in the pants or as he put it, "turned my mouth" which to this day I have no idea what he meant.

That's when it became a game. A very drawn out game. he stroked my arm, I flicked his lower lip. He turned and kissed my neck, I tickled his ribs. I let him make me blush, he stole more kisses. For months that's all that happened and to tell the truth I was pretty happy with it. I'd not had that sort of playful almost but not quite sexual relationship with anyone in a long time and I enjoyed it.

After months of this, and then a period of us not being able to see each other the next time we got together he had a look. Some people no matter how smooth they are have a tension in their facial muscles when they have gotten to the point where lust and a slight bit of anger have fused together into absolute need.

For the first time I felt a rush of power in watching him. The tables weren't quite turned but, I felt the power of watching him be wanting and too much of a gentleman to be demanding. I discovered my love of the tease.

I love being a cock/cunt tease on occasion and I am very good at it.

With him, I played like I didn't notice. Even though we spent the better part of a Saturday afternoon half dressed in his bed, I played. I played until he held my face in his hands and kissed me with actual purpose.

There is a big difference between the playful not quite there yet kisses I like to call Puppy Kisses and someone kissing another person with the clear intention of making them tingly int he pants and then getting down in said pants. A huge difference.

Maybe that's what I'd been waiting for. Just to see if he'd get there or if we'd eventually part ways having never consummated a by then mutual simmering lust. Either way I think I would have been happy, however I was delighted.

To that point my still exploratory sex life I had been missing having any experience with a very determined and skilled male lover. I had experienced the determined groping of post adolescent boys who thought they had skills but nothing like Blue.

From that kiss onward for the first time I let him really seduce me. It was fantastic. We actually slept together on and off for months.

I was reminded of this because of a man I saw on the bus today. He had the same kind of posture and set to his mouth.

And I did say I'd be smutty.

Good times people.

I will admit I do miss being single and my exploratory romps with naked people. I also miss in a way being fairly ambivalent about whether or not I was actually getting laid at all.

That is to say I really miss having the time and privacy to masturbate for however long I felt like it. There is really something to be said for spending a whole day in bed playing with yourself.

On that note, I'm off to make tea and ogle boots.

My fondness for boots is becoming a fetish in the my girly pink bits get tingly when I see the right pair of boots. Tingly and moist.

I'm really thinking more and more I should start myself a boot fetish site. The thought has been in the back of my mind for ages. Why not merge things I enjoy, photography, boots, my own ass and the internet.

And I could possibly write off boot purchases which would make my cervix quiver with glee.

Ok now I'm really done.

Homo Out.


Sunday, November 25, 2007

Stripper ass.

In case you haven't been reading me since back in the days of Diary-X (which is most of you) I used to be a pretty smutty blogger. Not as much anymore and that is probably going to change. Fair warning.

In reference to the title I want to talk about how much I miss stripping. Yes, your hostess used to do the naked dancing for monies. And I loved it.

When I started out I realized very quickly that I had several things going against me. I was not (and am still not) thin, white, tall and I didn't really fit the stereotype black girl image that a lot of people want to see whether they admit it or not. However, I wasn't entirely at a disadvantage I learned very quickly that black girl who dances to (almost exclusively) rock, metal etc while wearing shiny black=$$.

I will not sit here and give you some long feminist diatribe. I took the job because a friend of mine worked at the club and didn't want to work with a bunch of chicks she didn't know, I LOVE to dance, let me repeat LOVE to dance, got paid money (that part rarely ceased to amuse me) to wear costumes, wear crazy make up and be naked.


Granted it wasn't all booty shaking and roses. There were times I got my feelings hurt, I was never assaulted, groped or grievously offended. Actually most of the guys I danced for were actually fairly nice. Which is the exception rather than the rule of course. I had a good time. I had more issues with the other dancers than I did with the customers.

What I really miss though is how amazingly strong my body was at the time. I wasn't thin really. I was what is often referred to as "thick" a term I kind of hate but it was pretty accurate at the time. While I was dancing I became solid under a layer of tasty chub and the best part for me was feeling and knowing I was fucking buff.

I miss being super strong like that. You have to be strong to work the pole and I worked it.

The thing is though I am just not that young anymore. Much as I may want to flip myself upside down while shimmying up a pole it's just not practical.

So instead I will enjoy the sexy in my own skin and occasionally pine for that pert round stripper booty I used to have.

And hot DAMN I just won two super fantastic ebay auctions. I won a Smashbox eyeliner brush. I got the cream eyeliner brush#9. I got that bad motherfucker for more than 50% off of retail including shipping. I also picked up Smashbox's Layer Lash primer for a little more than 50% off retail too.

I've heard amazing things about both and I have been in serious need of a good brush to use with my cream eyeliners. So hot damn.

And that layer lash. I am a mascara whore and love primer. I have been using the Maybelline XXL primer with some Benefit BadGal mascara but I am ready to try something new.

Speaking of I hennaed my hair this weekend and that was lovely. Feel free to read about my hair experiments over on the LJ. You can find that here. I will be posting tomorrow most likely some recipes for all natural home made hair treatments. Some of them good for all sorts of hair not just black girl hair.

So my weekend has been mostly about pampering myself and doing some lovin type stuff to it and that makes me feel nice.

Now if I could berid my head of snot everything would be fabulous.

Now I am off to peruse the intertubes for more deals and consider having some beer.

Homo Out.


Friday, November 23, 2007

Tag it and um..yeah.

So I got tagged by the lovely Vesta from DUH not Vesta good lord Ottermatic to do a meme. And since I am finally more well and can function here we go. Long answers where possible.

Seven Things meme. These are the rules:

1. Link to the person’s blog who tagged you.
2. Post these rules on your blog.
3. List seven random and/or weird facts about yourself.
4. Tag seven random people at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.
5. Let each person know that they have been tagged by posting a comment on their blog.

Ok random facts.

1.)I have in fact had an actual Sugar Daddy situation. It was shortly before I started working where I do now and I was just about right smack between 21 and 22 years old. I had a habit of dressing up and taking myself out on little dates. I met him in the bar of the Alexis hotel.

He was tall and quite dapper, silver at the temples. Very much the quintessential sexy older man, very Sean Connery but with a slight bit of a New England twang. He said I drew his attention because it wasn't really the sort of bar he thought to find a young lady alone, muchless drinking 15$ scotch and smoking a good cigar.

We sat in big dark leather club chairs and he bought me my first glass of super fine scotch, and showed me how to properly cut and light a cigar. Even while we were having our drinks he was starring in a semi pornographic chain of thoughts on my behalf. He asked me out to dinner and at the time dating for me mostly just equaled free sex and free meals. So I accepted.

He took me to a nice restaurant and asked the big question over dessert espresso and some fantastic creme brulee, he knew I wasn't a pro working girl but he did in fact want to be my Sugar Daddy for a week. I didn't hesitate and accepted.

The theme of the four days we spent together was talk about books, history, etc. He bought me a really beautiful suit and took me on his arm to some business luncheon thing, he encouraged me on the way to not let his colleagues speak down to me, which of course wasn't an issue. I was having an excellent time. My whole idea at that point was Fuck Pretty Woman, this is way better.

There wasn't actual intercourse amazingly. He did however like him some tig ole bitties and admired them quite a lot. Mostly what he wanted was company and some fun. We did some dancing, a lot of drinking and when we parted at the airport he gave me a very sweet kiss and some cash in the proverbial envelope. However he did include a card with a pretty Georgia O'Keefe flower on it. We never came into contact again but I remember him fondly.

Still with me?

2.) When I was younger and my best friend committed suicide I went very crazy. I did a lot of drugs, I had what most people in religious circles call a crises of faith where I absolutely destroyed my altar, set it on fire then destroyed my spell books, recipes, sacred things. And the one thing that brought me back to my senses was going through a ritual and getting a brand. In my insanity and grief, the only thing that brought me back from the edge was the pain of having half a broken heart was seared into the flesh of my left breast. It was done by my first queer mentor and the first butch dyke I ever fell in love with Daddy Liz and her hippy wife. For the first and to date only time in my life I laid on the floor and howled, I got shitty drunk, I wept while sitting on the curb in the street and then I survived.

I wasn't healed but I was cleansed. I believe that my abandon in my grief probably kept me from becoming addicted to any of the numerous drugs I was ingesting. It was a trial by fire and I lived.

3.) If I know you personally, regardless of anything else I have probably included you in some pornographic tryst in my head. Irrespective of gender and sexual orientation most of my friends have been doing dirty things in my head. I can't help it.

4.) I have a probably evil hatred of chickens and have since I was a child. A story to illustrate:

When I was a little kid my parents and I went to a bbq joint called The Cave Man I think. They had this thing where if you caught one of the chickens that ran around outside you got a free meal. Me, being the literal child I was I spent the whole time there trying to catch a chicken.

I caught a huge chicken and triumphantly carried it up to the counter and the guy came out to congratulate me. However, I thought that I would get to kill and eat the chicken I caught and got irate, then hysterical. I argued for awhile, then started to cry because it was my fucking chicken and I wanted to eat my chicken.

Naturally I was inconsolable and caused such a ruckus the poor guy called the owner who came from home and they felt so bad that I was so upset we got free food there for months. I never ate there again. I also hold grudges. I felt it was misleading advertising and I was not a happy baby Beasty.

5.) I have an epic sweet tooth. The only people with worse sweet teeth I've ever met have been junkies.

6.) I buy books like crackheads buy rock. However given my gift of super frugality I can generally keep myself in at least 2 books a week (how many I tend to read) for less than 30 bucks every two months. I will read anything and I go through differing phases as to my subject matter. Currently I'm on a brutal fiction kick. Also because of my geekery I encourage the rest of you to come join me on Goodreads find me here. Be my friend. I have been unsuccessful thus far in cataloging all the books I've ever read sadly. Everything I've listed are just books in my physical possession or things that have left indelible imprints on my psyche.

7.) Last random fact, um. Uh. I like pie. A lot.


What else?

This weekend is all about my hair. I am going to henna my hair for rhe first time I'm really excited.

Not much else in the news aside from I am going to rip apart and remake a cheongasm dress. Make it fetishy and hot.


I actually don't have a lot else to say today. I'm really tired because I don't sleep fucking well and uh...yeah.

So yeah.

Homo Out.


Wednesday, November 07, 2007


Gods still sick.

Do. Not. Want.

So to make myself feel better I've been watching the video below over and over again. And I do the little paddle while I watch it.

Occasionally I make "ehn ehn ehn" sound effects.

This has been a hard week. I forgot to send out payment for some auctions I won and I feel so bad about that good lord. Also during my forray to Target I forgot I need new mascara, black liquid liner, and a few other things.


However my spam says that I can "beat her uterus with my big new rod"

If anyone that reads this wants a Pogo guest pass lemme know.

While I'm languishing here's a list of things I really need to pick up.

  1. New bra
  2. A cream black eyeliner probably the one by Revlon HIP
  3. mascara
  4. Eyeliner brush
  5. New jeans. My DKNY jeans that I lucked out and found in an emergency at Ross are starting to wear out in a not sexy way.

Other things that need doing. I think I might trade my partial jar of Pastorale the color and I don't really get along all that well sadly.

I bid on a pair of cheap Vicky's secret yoga pants on ebay today. Those are comfy and the starting bid is like 5$ and I am down for that.

I think that's all. I feel like poo. I'm going to cruise the Mac community on el jay for deals.

Sickly Homo Out.

Tuesday, November 06, 2007

Bodily Unrest.

I am actually sicker this week than I was last week. Lots sicker and I am really bummed out.

The turning point was spending all day Sunday running all the errands I'd been too tired to try. And since we don't have a car that involved a lot of standing around in the cold/wind and here I am.

That aside I managed to make it to Target for tights, socks, underpants, blush, um...few other bits.

I really love the Target brand 1X tights. I wore them yesterday and they are very soft and had no issues with crotch sag, ham pinch, no ankle bagging they get an A+. The only drawback is that they don't stock fun colors at my Target.

I also got some cute Hanes booty shorts panties and their XL fits far better than the Target brand XL. They have not gone up my butt all day.

Ugh I feel like poop people. And honestly it makes me really not happy with my body.


Oh just in case if anyone happens to run across or know publications open to Tgirl lesbian porn (the written kind) lemme know. I'm slowly getting back into writing smut and I'm way behind on markets. Note to self: go back to erotica readers dumb ass.

I also need to start reading the gay smut again. I have a couple of bits to finish that I might send off to the fabulous guys at Velvet Mafia. Link clearly not worksafe or butt sex phobic safe. They have published me before and I got some really excellent feedback and some fanmail.



Do. Not. Fucking. Want.

I am spent homo out.


Friday, November 02, 2007

Links and whatnot.

Lots of whatnot today.

Still feeling crappy in the over tired, over cranky, feel puffy and gross kind of way. Also I have discovered that my body hates cold medicine and fights back with gastrointestinal distress, breakouts and random heartburn.

So links:

Monk made a very delicious post about spanking today. NSFW clearly and I agree that he is in fact dreamy.

Margaret Cho (who is one of my favorite people) has some really fantastic tattoos and her latest is really lovely go look here.

What else?

Oh I've been playing on Make Up Alley and wrote some new reviews go read them here. If you have to be a member to see those tell me.

What else?

I've been feeling strangely invisible lately. Or rather, like I have no impact on anything. Which is probably due more to me being sick, over tired and ay inside my own head. I go through this sort of thing with some regularity at least once or twice a year.

Usually this is precipitated by illness or the aforementioned over tiredness, then I dig in and let my brain spin. This time around most of my issue is this: quite honestly I am just not able to do a lot of things I enjoy and it makes me miserable.

I get myself all riled up because I want to do this that and the other thing, then i want to be able to write about it, blablablabla. The truth is I'm biting myself in the ass with this and I need to stop.

What else?

OH I've had a bit of a personal break thru in terms of my body. Like most other human beings I know I am on and off with how I feel about my body. I realized the other day while I was getting naked, ok I digress here but I highly recommend this if you can, as soon as you get home take it all off. Srsly. More on that in a minute, anyhow I was getting naked and I realized that yes, I am finally and actually okay with how my body has changed.

This isn't really about weight but rather the distribution of it. In the last five years or so my body shape has changed a lot. I've had to relearn how to dress my body and now, oh HAY I'm all right with it.

Ok back to the naked.

I have a problem dissociating from my body and not enjoying it. I started spending probably inordinate amounts of time bucky naked. Chances are, if I'm at home I'm naked. Or naked with a cardigan on, or just socks. I'm not going to sit here espousing how "liberating" and whatnot it is. But I will say that spending so much time naked has taken a lot of those moments of "OMFGWTFBBQ!!1!!!" is that my ass, away.

If you can't spend tons of time naked I also highly recommend after bathing, be naked then. Make your booty shiny with some nice cream or lotion. Sit around let it sink in. It feels very luxurious.

What else?

Oh I have decided that I really do actually want to get a tummy tattoo. I've been planning a memorial tattoo to my friend who passed away a decade ago and wanted the words Bad Motherfucker, tattooed on my left side.

Okay backstory quickly. Pete was a junkie who committed suicide. It was bad. The reason I want Bad MotherFucker instead of say flowers, butterflies or some shit is because of the following memory of him which is one of my favorites.

He and I were hanging out in one of the parks the hobos and drunks hang out in, lolling in the grass drinking coffee. I forget now how the conversation started but, the punchline is that Pete jumped up off the ground, ran around me in a circle flailing his arms and screaming: "She's a BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD MOTHERFUCKER" I laughed until I almost peed.

So I think I will get that on my stomach rather than my side because I have a short torso and don't want the words squished. I've been looking for line drawings of hypodermic needles (he and I shared a fairly sick sense of humor) or something like that because I know it'd make him smile.

OH MY GOOD LORD burn my goth card right now I am jiggle my ass in my chair to the new Britney album.

Good lord.

what else?

I'm babbling because I am really tired. And keep busy=don't pass out under desk.

I am going to do the challenge I saw over at Every Woman Has an eating Disorder with color commentary of course:

Inspired by April's challenge, posed here--Eight Things I Like About My Body:

  1. My boobs. For sheezy. We all know I loves me some boobies. However, I love mine most of all. D Cups of Chocolate Doom.
  2. The color of my skin. I love it. I am brown fabulousness.
  3. My hands/nails. I love the shape of my fingers and my long nails.
  4. My ham. Truth is I used to hate my big, slightly out of proportion thighs. I have come to love them. Big, kinda jiggly, and shaped like whoa. I love My. HAM.
  5. My booty. My poor little half a badonkadonk. I am lacking in the ghetto booty but goddamn the right pants and it's cute. Also, naked very cute. Cute enough that Uniballer quite literally kisses and/or nibbles on it daily.
  6. My wrists. I have finely turned wee wrists and I love them.
  7. I love the inside of my knee. It's soft and I don't know why but I love it.
  8. And lastly? My big dead sexy brains. I love my brain it makes me TEH HOTNESS.
The verdict on the Britney album. Cheesy effects, some bouncy beats, her voice not great but she is working it. Decent enough to make me want to go out dancing. Yes it makes me want to get hoochiefied (no crotch shots though) and go shake my shit.

While on the subject of hoochieness I will tellz you internetz, I am one who enjoys the trashy. I don't care what anyone says I find great pleasure in dressing tartily, and (here goes some of my street cred certainly) behave in a less than ladylike manner.

When I say less than ladylike I mean any of the following. Groping, smooching, occasional flashing, the super occasional barfight (I have been involved with 3 and started 2 other ones), loudness, dancing on tables, the dirty dancing, ladies room make outs. Seriously. Granted I am calmer now than I was when I was younger but still.

I like going to strip clubs and fooling stupid straight boys into buying me lap dances.

I have also been known to induce bicuriosity in women who've not really had any. Usually in the form of smooches I will ask for while batting my eyelashes and working the cleavage.

I will hit on your wife. As I've told many men I know. And no not in a jerky way but in a , "I think you are super beautiful" kind of way.

I'm only jerky to few people.

Okay I think I am finally spent.

Going to make my dinner and listen to the new Jay Z album.

Homo Out.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007


I'm still sick. I actually didn't come to work yesterday and I am leaving in an hour or so today.

But in fabulous news it was Uniballer and my anniversary this past weekend and he got me...wait for it...wait for it...A MOTHERFUCKING digital camera.

So that means I will be subjecting you people to photos of make up, random shit on the sidewalk, probably my boobs. Outfits and whatever else I see fit to point the lens at.



I fucking hate being sick. And I've discovered that Theraflu gives me the loose guts. Not really a perk.

Since there has been no Halloween celebration this year due to illness I have a bunch of crap sitting in a pile waiting to be DIY'd. I have lots of projects to tackle actually. Aside from making a duct tape dummy (that will be fucking STACKED yo, D Cups of DOOM in the HIZOUSE...I'm drugged I'm allowed), I have a cheongasm dress to turn into backless hotness to accommodate said D Cups of Doom.

I also have an old Lip Service Fetish line mini skirt that I think I'm going to turn into a tulle bearing half pleather half plaid with floofy stuff on the butt skirt. Also I have tights that are too small in the thigh area (because I have the big hams) that I will probably turn into either uber goth sleeves or attach to a tshirt I'm planning on revamping.

So yeah.

I also seriously just jizzed in my pants a little. Ok a lot. We all know Shannon is quite the boot whore. I need a tshirt that says will turn tricks for good boots.

I just saw these at Shoe Pavillion for 90 motherfucking dollars. I have been lusting after them since they came out. ZOMFG.

And the blurb:

This 20-eye steel-toe boot has soft weathered leather, trademark Dr. Martens heel loop, 15" shaft height, and full inside zipper for easy on/off. The laser cut skull and rose tattoo design makes this edgy boot more feminine, and the world famous air cushioned sole creates comfort.

Granted I already have some Burgundy Docs the same height and whatnot but they are lacking skulls and roses.

To tell you how much of a boot whore I am I actually got a little dizzy I was so excited.

And why is it that I really am very into a lot of the goth clothes out of the UK?

I think I need to make a pen pal across the pond thar so I can freaking shop.

However if I get back up to speed with the sewing then I can make my own floofy goth clothes.

Wow staying at all alert is just difficult. I think I'm spent. I do want to share that I am wearing FABULOUS Bpal but, I cannot recall what I'm wearing. It's not Saturnalia it might be I want to say it's Santa Muerte. Yes, on fortieth sniff I believe it is.

For those who are all into the BPAL I HIGHLY suggest joining some of the BPAL communities on livejournal. I am in two and have a box full of Imps that are as yet unsniffed. It's a great way for us po' folks to get smell goods too.

Also this week I am going to make a post about more handmade goodies. Perfumes make up and such.

I will be back tomorrow.


Homo Out.



Friday, October 26, 2007

This will probably not come out right.

I am an annoyed fat girl.

For reasons aside from that I'm sick.

That said before I launch, let me forewarn you all (all three of you who read this) that I am doped on day time *snerk...right* cold medication and working on about 4 hours of choppy fever sleep.


As some of you who read this may know Heidi did a really wonderful guest post over at Shapely Prose awhile back about her WLS surgery.

Today Deniselle (who i don't know but by the way if you see this that is a lovely name) posted a very nice update about how she's doing. See that here at Fatly Yours.

Following that someone who I don't know and who's blog I will say I've never read posted a now deleted really horrible response. Yes I am going to quote a few bits because I find this fucking foul.

I hope you live long enough to become deeply ashamed and horrified by what you've done, and then I hope you forgive yourself, and take on the task of warning others to not make the same obscene mistake.

Ok. In whatever context, that is not an ok thing to say to someone for whatever reason. That is a shit thing to say. Isn't that EXACTLY the same kind of moralizing shaming behavior so many people in the Fat Acceptance world have been struggling against and are struggling against?

Are you fucking serious?

The entirety of the post is still available on the Fatosphere feed and I have to say I read it three or four times and I am appalled.

If that is how you treat other people, other human beings fuck you I don't want to be at your party.

The entire response was uncalled for and plain cruel.

Granted I am in fact a newb, I haven't been here for 25 years. However if after 25 years I ever, say anything like that to another human being I will turn in my card and call it a day.

Moving on. I don't think I want to talk about that anymore. It makes my skin crawl.

Actually yes I do but not as it relates specifically to that post.

I think what set me off about it is that years ago my first real exposure to feminism was that same sort of vibe.

I call it the No You Don't method. Or the How Dare You Not toe MY line.

I cannot stand that. I cannot palate anyone shoving their agenda down my throat then, being pissed that I spit it on their shoes.

I remember being very young and force fed some bastardized Andrea Dworkin flavor feminism and I was so horrified. These "sisters" did their damnedest to make me ashamed of myself and how I wanted to live my life. They made me start to hate my own heart.

Luckily I threw that off and came out relatively unscathed but friends I had weren't quite so lucky and they were miserable. I don't approve of that.

If that's the kind of party it's going to be I'll stay home and pee in my own sandbox thanks.

None of what I said here is entirely personal. I do want to make that clear. I don't personally know the women involved in any way. Hell, Kell (is that her name? cold meds are whooping my ass) might be a very nice person who behaved badly. Which is fine, shit happens. But I do think it's necessary to let people know when they are being assy.

I am a fan of people telling me when I've said something fucked up. I know how I can be and I like to try at least to check myself for that.

My usual method is to take whatever personal feeling I have about an opinion and ask myself honestly how I would feel and if it's fair to say to myself. For instance if I say, "You are a pea hater and you cannot be in my pro vegetable group" I would say it to myself, kick myself out of the group for a minute. Then probably realize that whatever I said or was thinking of saying wasn't productive and move on.

Also as I've said before I do have a weak spot for standing up for the other voices in any given conversation. I don't like to call it devil's advocate, rather a diversity of opinion. I think any "movement" would curl up and die if everyone thought the exact same thing, in the same parameters.

I really don't like people getting hushed up or shuttled off for not being on the party line. It ruffles my feathers the absolute wrong way.

Ok enough of that.

In fabulous news I purchased some clothing from a lady over at Inbetweenies on LJ and ZOMG love.

I purchased a fantastic black basic halter dress and it is the hot motherfucking sex. All I need now are some hot shoes and hot accessories.

Those are the shoes/styles I am considering. I have no idea about jewelry yet or hair.

I am leaning towards closed toe now so i can wear some hot ass hosiery that Uniballer will be forbidden from biting and/or tearing. He has a bad habit of tearing lingerie.

Um I think that's really all. I feel like stepped in poop and I have another hour and fifteen minutes of work. Then home, spicy beef, drugs, Unreal Tournament then sleep. Rinse, repeat all weekend.

Homo Out.

Ps... I want ice cream so bad right now I could stab someone. I must be stopped I don't need the lactose intolerance along with the cold.

Note to self, NO ice cream kthnksbai.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007 what I say.

I don't feel good. I think I'm maybe having the startings of a cold and I am cranky about that and chock full of zinc and vitamin C.

So I'm goin to tell you all a story and like that Nas song I like I'm telling it backwards.

The story ends with me hobbling up the stairs knock knee'd with a bladder full to burst. For the record I climb six flights of stairs daily (not counting stairs at work) to get home and going upstairs with a full bladder sucks.

I had just gotten off of the bus which was almost 40 minutes late in arriving to my stop. I get off the bus and the driver thanks me for always being so calm no matter what, not making a scene and being a nice bus rider. I tell him I've been riding the bus so long that almost nothing phases me anymore and shit happens, it's not his fault. I'll see him tomorrow (which is tonight). All due to police serving a warrant on someone in SouthPark which said person probably objected to and fled.

Street closed.

Me napping away until a guy in the back yells, "FUCK I GOTTA GET HOME", I jump the man next to me jams his stuffed Barney (I SHIT YOU NOT, a stuffed Barney the dinosaur doll( in my lap, tells me to "watch him" all while I sort of blink in befuddlement because the bus is stopped in the middle of the street.

So I eventually figure out what's going on while the guy who woke me up yelling, continues to yell about how he has to go home and the bus driver better back that bitch up and go around. Driver can't do that. They get in trouble for that. SO there I am, half asleep with a stuffed Barney doll in my lap.

Closer to downtown prior to me nodding off, I was reading my book quietly and giant man sits in front of me, no problem. I see him at least 3-4 times a week. I nod in a friendly enough type manner but for something like ten minutes every minute or so he turns to look at me all weird.

I ask if there's something I can do for him, he grunts.

Downtown, strange guy listening to really loud 80's radio station on tape (yes, taped 80's radio) with a Barney stuffie sits next to me, randomly yelps odd things. I wonder if he has Tourette's or something. He sits Barney in his lap so he can see, turns him, pets him. I do not want.

I get on the bus and the driver smiles at me, asks if I got out early the night before. Apologizes for running a little late. Traffic weirdness. I don't care. I just want to sit down, try to stay warm and semi conscious until I get home.

The Beginning.


What else?

I just this week thrifted some fantastic clothes on Livejournal. Including the dress that (Goddess and ass willing) I will be wearing to my company Xmas party. That is one of the few times of year I have a really good excuse to dress nice and get drunk.

I also got myself some lovely LOVELY make up and I am really excited to get it. I ran out of eyeshadow primer last week so I ordered another tube of that, and a tub of Fyrinnae's oil control mineral veil powder which I am super excited about trying. And a few more samples from them.

I also wrangled (on livejournal) myself this Clinique lipgloss that I have been hunting on ebay for months without success. And a partial jar of Mac Pastorale pigment.

I've also got my eye on a cute pair of olive drab bondage pants.

I don't know if I've mentioned it previously but I handed over budgeting to Uniballer entirely. I am not super great with money and that freaks me out like you don't even know. Having him handle the finances has taken so much stress off of my shoulders.

And bonus even prior to getting a raise, I have actually had some little bits of mad money. Which I have used to fill in gaps in my wardobe, used books, make up. I am not hard to please. However I do like having enough spare coin of the realm so I can keep myself in little trinkets.

That isn't to say that when it comes to anything over 20$ I don't still freak out about it because I do.

I don't like to talk about it but yeah. It's an issue.


I feel like I need to talk about how mad at my body i am right now but I'm not entirely in the mood so maybe tomorrow.

Meanwhile I'm going to crawl back into my turtle shell, watch belly dance videos on youtube and sip ginger tea until my stomach stops doing that stupid thing it's doing.

Homo Out.

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