jamYe waXman. seX matters.

Wah..Wah..Wah..

The weblogist. Me. Last Night. I don't know why I'm holding my chin up.

Last night I was invited by my dear friend and mentor, Candida Royalle, to sit on a "panel" of me and her in front of an event hosted by the NYU chapter of the National Organization of Women (NOW). The event, entitled "When Women Call the Shots," was a rather un-organized but exciting look at some of Ms. Royalle's previous film work.

First we watched parts of the adult movies "One Size Fits All" and "Studhunters" (which includes a cameo by moi)...and then after the video selections, Candida and I sat in the front of a room of 50 students to discuss pornography as an industry and its effects on women. Except for the moment where I inserted my foot in my mouth, have I mentioned how flexible I am?, and started talking about bestiality, the evening, from my perspective, was an overall success. I have such a trivial gripe. I hate that everyone spells my name wrong. On all the fliers that advertised the event, my name was misspelled. It's not JaYme - it's JamYe...big difference, at least for me, since it's MY name.

Oh, and living proof that you shouldn't believe everything you read. The event was covered by The Washington Square Mews, NYU's local paper, and there is more than one factual error.

Read the article

Okay, first off, the reporter didn't check with me on how I spell my name..and I don't write a column called "Stepping Out" for Playgirl. Steppin Out is a magazine and my column for Playgirl is called Sex.Ed. I actually had to wait a few minutes before I read the piece, because once I saw my name spelled wrong I got very upset. But the piece isn't bad at all. Really.

Sometimes I don't like being a girl. I think I'm hormonally imbalanced. Like after a great night last night I should feel, as Leo D. might say in a movie I should never quote from, "like the king of the world." Only today, I feel like I am on my own island. I'm bitching about things like the placement of a "Y." Okay, enough about all of this. Sometimes I bore myself.

Oh, and I forgot to mention two nights ago, when I was drunk off my ass, I got the chance to talk with Alan Cumming. His assistant Joey was all excited that I was from Playgirl, as it was the first magazine he could pick up as a young, gay boy. Yes, I know...but I've never denied that Playgirl has a gay following. Anyway, Joey has really kept Alan on top of some sexuality education information. He donated his speaking fee that night to Scarleteen, a website I've known about and loved for a number of years. He even explained to the audience the difference between abstinence only education and comprehensive sexuality education. In case you don't know: While abstinence only ed. talks of abstinence as the only form of safer sex education, comprehensive sex ed explains that abstinence is the best protection against STI's (sexually transmitted infections) but that if you are going to engage in sexual activity there are other barriers for protection. BIG DIFFERENCE, being that as children, and adults too, we don't always do as we are told.. (i.e. wait to have sex until marriage). So, if a teenager is having sex and only knows not to, will they necessarily know to use a condom over going in bare?

Okay, I sense my soapbox pulling up, so before I get into this further, I'm going to save this discussion for some other time.

I'm actually looking forward to lunch today. As I was walking to work I wished that I would run into someone I knew but hadn't seen in a while, and then out of the blue, literally, my oldest friend in the world walks up to me and asks me what I'm doing outside of the building she works in. Turns out it's only a block from where I work, so we're going to "lunch" and catch up and probably not talk about sexuality education. Which, by the way, another useless but not so useless bit o' info...California is the only state that can teach comprehensive sex ed because they don't take government funding. Damn the rest of us!

Okay. I'm done.

For now.

Drinking - BAD

Guilt is the lowest form of energy you can emit..this I'm learning from a friend and from my past actions. Like my actions last night..which involved drinking way too much on an (almost) empty stomach. Why is it that when the alcohol is free, I feel the need to overindulge in its pleasures?

I can be so annoying, and that's how I feel today. The boy I really like must agree, I mean I called him, practically slurring, at 11:15 last night, asking why he wouldn't come over? Does it get more annoying than a whiny Jew Girl asking for some lovin' at 11:15 on a Tuesday when he's already given me more time than he normally would the two days before?

I don't know. I don't know anything right now except that I'm in the fast forward part of some really strange transition and even though I've buckled my seat belt and I'm trying to enjoy the ride, I'm sitting at the back of the roller coaster, and that's where you get thrown out of your seat more often than at the front. Did you ever notice that? How much scarier the back of the coaster can be?

I didn't realize how drunk I was until I woke up at 4:06AM with half of my clothes on, lieing on top of the bed, in a well lit apartment. I think one of the cats (I'm catsitting this week) woke me up. That's when I got up and regretted my night. And regretted the call. And started to hate myself even more. If you feel disgusted by your own self, won't everybody else be disgusted with you too?

I need to find my self confidence. I lost it someplace in New York and last night dignity and self respect went out to find it. So in a sense, they weren't with me as I drank myself into a stupor.

Today is another day. The sun is shining. It's 51 degrees in New York and I walked to work without a jacket this morning. That's some positive shit..even in a negative mindspace.

The Devil Inside

Photo courtesy of Lucence Photographic

Sometimes I still miss Michael Hutchence -he obviously had some "devil's inside." Too bad he couldn't KICK them before he died. (Okay, references will stop for now).

So I've made one major change to the site. I've added a picture of myself to the masthead because I've been told that there needs to be a photo to go along with the ramblings. I know, I know, I post photos of myself all over the damn site, but still, one at the top of the page might not be such a bad idea. Although another friend is pretty adamant that there needs to be more pictures of other hot women on my blog, but I say there are plenty of sites where you can see hot girls giving up more than I do, and you should go there if you want to see more tits and ass. This is my blog dammit. Although the pic I'm posting today is the risque-est one I've posted so far. Should this be the masthead?

Anyway, I have bigger news but I don't know how to share it without sharing too much. I feel like I'm at the doctor, when she asks if you smoke, and you know you smoke pot but don't know if you should say anything. My doctor recently informed me that I shouldn't really say "anything" because insurance companies get nervous when they hear that you might smoke, but here I am about to talk about marijuana. First of all, I think I've said this already but it needs to be said again, the fast really did wonders for how I feel about my life. In a positive way. Although on Sunday afternoon I smoked some "leafy green stuff" and then my whole perspective about life changed. I became paranoid. Unsure of myself and certain relationships. I'm still not back to the way I was B.S. (before Sunday). So now, now I've reached a point that has been a long time coming: I've decided to give up smoking anything -- at least for a long while. It made me really paranoid. About my life. About my lack of knowledge on certain subjects. About the relationship I'm in right now. And I don't like how I feel one bit.

I've been thinking a lot about weed these past few weeks. I do enjoy it, and that's part of the problem. But, most of the successful 30 something people I know have given up the smoke. They say they get paranoid, less productive, depressed, whatever, and that smoking makes them do less and less of anything but eat. I think sometimes I use it as a crutch, as an escape, like Laura Wakefield and her Glass Menagerie, only now it's not working the way it used to. Two days later and I'm still feeling shitty and insecure. It doesn't matter. I stopped giving myself excuses for why I could continue to indulge, and last night I decided to stop- NO MORE, at least not for a long while. I threw out anything I could smoke with.

I have too many other things I need to do. Like videos. Getting back in shape (I haven't done yoga in almost two weeks). Writing. Making love - okay, that last one not really, cause you should know by now that I hate that term, but I needed to throw something in there to see if you were paying attention. I need to clear my head.

This is not going to be easy. I like to smoke bowls with friends. I like the smell and feel of pot. But I need to make some big changes, and after the fast I feel like I can do anything. Like I have the will power I need to do anything I want to do. I haven't felt this way since college, or maybe since I was 24 and I ended my 9 year relationship after years of wanting it to end. It's a really great feeling. I recommend it to everyone.

For those of you who are close to me, you know that this is a big change. For those of you who aren't, I'm not dependent on weed, even if this exchange makes me sound like I am, it's just that I dabble more often than some.

Pot has become my own personal devil, and now, after years of smoking, I'm ready to stand up and fight. I don't like to get too personal about these sorts of things, and I don't know if you'll judge me differently for revealing my weakness, but I wanted to share.

So, what do you think of the picture?

For the love of Jesus

I'm just not that into going out these days. I have to get out of this lame-ass mode because it's no way for a social girl to start spring, but I must say I think I've matured over this winter. Well, maybe it's not matured, I don't think there's anything immature about wanting to go out a lot, but still there's something big in slowing down. I think I've at least changed a lot.

It's strange to reflect back on where I'm at on Easter, a day that means nothing to me so it's actually not all that strange really. Maybe I reflect too much, but I think reflection is part of the learning. I can't believe what a different space I'm in right now. Three and a half months ago, I would have never guessed this is how my life would have turned out. Although my "friend" said it best, it's like the future had been a carrot dangling in front of me for a really long time, and now I can actually taste the tip. I know I'm being aloof as always, but I'm really happy. The fast made me see things clearly. I understand my life a bit better, and although tonight I tested myself with some sort of jealousy thing, I know that there are things I have to learn to trust in.

But right now I think something's burning on my stove...

Hold that thought..

Okay..nothing burning..Let's talk about Jesus. I have these Jesus candles and this Virgin Mary nightlight in my apartment. They most definitely freaked my Jewish mother out. But, I think Jesus is it these days, I mean in terms of fashion. Plus I feel the need to feel the hood. Jesus, I think all the kids love Jesus. Right President Bush?

Anyway...

Thanks to F. for that lovely Easter brunch complete with talk about the two things I know are in these days.

Sex and Spirit.

It's all coming together...

I broke my fast

That's really all you need to know. But of course I'll tell you more. I broke it first with the vegetable broth that I was told I was supposed to eat. It was very garlicky..too garlicky...I will not be eating that vegetable broth again.

And then. at 11PM when a group of us couldn't get into this full moon party that we had so badly wanted to attend, although the drum circle outside the party was just as cool, my partner in fast decided it was time to break his. So we went to the Moonstruck diner, in honor of the full moon, and I ate some more. This time it was matzo ball soup and half a grilled cheese. Even if it wasn't the best grilled cheese in the world, it sure as hell tasted like it. I had been craving grilled cheese all week.

Then this morning we made french toast. Sort of a ritual to end the week of maple syrup. It was yummy and bready and now I'm thinking I ate too much. I realized I used to have an eating disorder. Not recently, but when I was growing up. When I went from a size 10 to a size 2 over one summer, and I got praise and recognition for my thinness, I never wanted to be "regular" again. It took me years to get over that, although some would argue that I still really haven't. But still, now that I've fasted I can sense old habits dieing hard.

Anyway the bread was yummy. Eating is fun. I'm happy to have reconnected with food.

I've learned a lot. When I figure it all out, we'll talk some more...

Wonton Soup

I've had some really strange and bad dreams over the past few nights. The strangest dream happened the night before the fast. I'm going to try to recount it, but it's really weird.

I'm eating wonton soup, except that when I eat wonton soup I have a ritual where I pick out the pork in the middle of each wonton. This part is all true...Because while I really like the taste of wonton soup, as a vegetarian, I don't want to eat the pork that festers in the belly of each individual dumpling. Now this is the where things get strange. So, I'm picking out the pork and I come across one particular wonton in my soup, and this bowl must have grown in size now, because this wonton is enormous, only it's not in the shape of a wonton. It's as if the pasta shell has straightened itself out, and it looks like one big long sheet of wonton noodle. I see two bones sticking out of this noodle, the way you'd expect a wishbone to look, in that 'V' sort of formation.

I'm immediately disgusted by the site of these two rather large bones protruding from in between the two sheets of noodles. I ask a friend to look in between the wontons and tell me what they see. When we remove the top layer of noodle we find half a human body. The two bones belong to the decomposing corspe of some girl. She's still intact from head to belly, but her skin is gone below that. In fact after the belly all we see are these two large bones in the shape of a V, as if she's died spread eagle. I scream, but then notice that she's wearing these really shiny earrings, and they look really pretty on her ears. I debate if the earrings are worth anything and if I should take them off of her ears before we call the police, but upon closer inspection, I realize that the earrings are of the crappy, junky $2.00 plastic variety so I leave them be.

Superficial, yes, although I still don't really understand my fascination with her earrings as I'm not one to wear much jewelry, let alone buy it for myself. Regardless, I decide not to take the earrings off of her dead body. Instead I get nauseous that I've got this dead body in my soup, and I don't want to eat anymore. I'm still not sure how I carried my soup from the take out place to my home when there's the now obvious dead body in the bowl, and I'm not sure how it even got in a bowl, or why I had a bowl big enough to house a dead body.

We call the cops and wonder who she might have been and how she wound up in the soup, and why anyone would have killed her. And then I wake up.

I've had some other bad dreams this week having to do with particular people and getting into fights. Things like walking off trains because my lover goes to talk to another woman, and then I try to get back on but the doors have shut. In my angry haste, I've left my jacket and cell phone on the train, so I can't call him up or talk to anyone. I have no contact with the my familiar world, and I've deposited myself at a train stop in the middle of nowhere. Or the dream from last night, the one where I was at a fraternity party (?!) and I get in a fight with a boy over a girl. It becomes ugly, I start begging him for forgiveness, he won't talk to me. I don't know why I'm at this party anyway, I haven't been to a frat party since I dated a frat boy in college. Should I be admitting this anyway?

I'm physically starved and emotionally drained. I had another not so good night, complete with pounding headache and stomach cramps.

My tongue is still a little white, which means I should continue my fast, but I think I'm going off it as of dinner tonight. Although dinner tonight will consist of vegetable broth and nothing else, I'm still excited about getting back to the act of eating.

I've survived my fast. I stuck it out. I'm still sticking it out. I just might stay away from wonton soup for a while.

Of Mice and Men

So now my fast partner is thinking of not giving up on this fast until Sunday. I know fasting is an individual thing, but I'm still a little bit of a competitive person and I like the idea of sticking this out with someone. I don't think I'm going to stick this out wih him though. I'm going to end my fast tomorrow, because while I don't need food, I want it. It's not like I'm going out right now. What's the point? I can drink water, or water, and I can watch other people be social and have fun, but when you're fasting conversation and interaction are, at least for me, kept to a minimum.

The only sucky thing about coming off of this fast is that you are supposed to ease back into eating real food. All I want is a grilled cheese sandwich, extra butter on the white bread, lots of melted cheese pouring forth from over the edges of crust. Okay, now I've made myself hungry dammit! Tomorrow I might only be able to eat watermelon and drink orange juice. Yuckity yuck yuck. Still I'm excited about the act of eating.

So, lets talk about other things. Besides fasting. Tomorrow night is a full moon. Those are always fun because the crazy people come out. I can usually tell when it's going to be a full moon because, like I said, I think the mental hospitals release all of their favorite patients. So tonight, tonight I should try and enjoy the night before the crazy people party. But I don't really think there's much I want to do. Last night I was woken up by mice. Thank G-ddess they weren't in my apartment, where the problem seems to be the cockroaches. At least you can't hear cockroaches. Mice squeak and make a big fuss when they go through plastic bags.

Enough about mice. Enough about fasting. Enough already.

Enough looks like a funny word though. You know when you write a word too much and then all of a sudden it doesn't look like a word you recognize...that's what enough looks like to me..

okay - enough for now.

Fasting can be a b*tch

The Little Engine that Could

Last night wasn't one of my better evenings. I got off of work, I still can't believe I'm heading into an office three days a week, around 6:30, was back downtown a bit after 7PM, and then I began my search for this Grade B Maple Syrup. It has these trace vitamins that the Grade A lacks, and although me and "The Object of my Affection" (as referred to in my horoscope last Saturday) were in agreement that Grade A or B doesn't matter, apparently after a few days of this cleanse it actually does. So anyway, now that I've written the longest sentence anyone ever has about the grade of maple syrup, I found it at this great health food store, Urban Roots, on Avenue A between 3rd and 4th Streets, not that this will mean anything to anyone outside of New York, but I have to give props to the first in four health food stores that actually carried this stuff. Whew, that was another long run on!

So, by the time I got home to make my dinner, dinner being the same thing as breakfast and lunch, I had a headache the size of my whole head. It was actually beginning to feel like my head could split in two. I tried to do work. I even finished my second draft of a piece for the first book I actually hope to be published in. I wanted to start working on the script for the first movie I hope to be shooting, but by then, I couldn't see straight. And that's when the nauseous kicked in. It's not fun to be alone, with a huge headache, ready to throw up two days worth of maple syrup, lemon, water and cayenne pepper. There wasn't much I could do. I masturbated, which was actually the only thing that made me feel better, but once that was over, I was back to focusing on the fact that my head was hurting, and that I couldn't take medicine, and I still wanted to puke.

I got into bed. It was a little past 9PM, which is really early for a girl who knows that "early to bed, early to rise" is the way her body functions. I was asleep by 9:45. I woke up for a couple of pee breaks, and I checked the clock at 4:04AM, but I did manage to stay in bed until my alarm went off at 7:30 this morning. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that my headache was gone, and the vomitis feeling had subsided.

Well, it subsided until I tried to drink what TMWHDTMCB *see yesterday's blog to understand what that means - told me to drink in the morning to clean out my ass. Which, by the way, I never like to talk about what comes out of my ass, but today, today I must make an exception. Anyway, he told me to drink a 20oz glass of water mixed with 2 tablespoons of non-iodized kosher salt and to give myself at least an hour before I did anything else. I had no idea what to expect.

Let's just say as I was sitting on the bus heading uptown to the office I couldn't help but think "if these people on the bus only knew what came out of my ass this morning..." My new favorite term is anal discharge. I won't go into more detail, but cleansing can be really cleansing, and surprisingly exciting! You will have no idea what to expect, unless of course you're willing to try this concoction yourself. After drinking a cup full of salt I again felt nauseous. But by 10AM this morning I was feeling fine and dandy.

I feel like maybe I've gotten over some hump. Feeling as shitty as I did last night, I'm surprised by how much energy I actually have today. It's quite refreshing really. To not have to eat to be able to function. I don't think I've lost a damn pound though, and this, this I cannot understand.

Still..two and a half more days on this fast. I think I can..I think I can...

The Fast - Day 2

Is it bad to tease yourself?

So, I'm halfway done with the second day. Anyone I physically spoke to last night is telling me I'm crazy for fasting. Yes, I'm crazy people - didn't you know this already? Still, I don't think fasting makes me any crazier. In fact it might just do the opposite. Let's revisit that thought at the end of the week.

My plan is to last until Friday. If I have to stop before that I will, even though I know how headstrong I can be when I get into situations like this. I remember back in college, I studied for a semester in Australia and attempted to climb Ayers Rock. It’s this controversial and spiritual rock in the middle of the country, and there are lots of people who wish you wouldn’t climb it. Therefore, they make the climb challenging. Everyone I knew was going to climb, and I started to ascend with them. I quit halfway up because the rest of the climb looked more difficult, and I turned around and headed back down. I knew this might be a once in a lifetime opportunity, and that I couldn’t live with myself as a quitter, so the next morning, while all of my friends were asleep, I climbed the rock again. This time to the top. I might be the one of the only people who can actually say they climbed Ayers Rock 1.5 times.

So, today, as the day wears on, I feel less and less like I'm doing the wrong thing by fasting. I am going to make it til Friday, although I'm realizing there are things I should add to the fast, like senna tea and uniodized sea salt, just to actually expel the toxins out of my body. I have a headache that I hope just goes away on its own, but other than that my energy is the same as yesterday. In fact, this boy I work with, I'll call him "the boy who has done the master cleansing before" or TBWHDTMCB explained to me that not only did he do this for ten days, but he worked out for two hours every day while drinking said concoction. That to me is incredible, as the boy I'm now doing this with is suggesting that I shouldn't even walk the three miles to work. TBWHDTMCB says that if you do this right you have enough energy to do anything. TBWHDTMCB also says that I'm not making my drink dark enough or putting enough cayenne pepper in my mix. I think he is more hardcore than most, but today TBWHDTMCB is my god and I will do as he says.

The office thinks my energy is draining. I think it's just from being in an office. Florescent lights can't be good for the skin, let alone for the soul.

Let's talk about something else. Something more *interesting
***although that is in and of itself a matter of opinion***
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From the NY Times Op-ed section today (M. Dowd should get credit as I've just copied and pasted this from her piece):

"Research published last week in the journal Nature reveals that women are genetically more complex than scientists ever imagined, while men remain the simple creatures they appear."

"Alas," said one of the authors of the study, the Duke University genome expert Huntington Willard, "genetically speaking, if you've met one man, you've met them all. We are, I hate to say it, predictable. You can't say that about women. Men and women are farther apart than we ever knew. It's not Mars or Venus. It's Mars or Venus, Pluto, Jupiter and who knows what other planets."

"We poor men only have 45 chromosomes to do our work with because our 46th is the pathetic Y that has only a few genes which operate below the waist and above the knees," Dr. Willard observed. "In contrast, we now know that women have the full 46 chromosomes that they're getting work from and the 46th is a second X that is working at levels greater than we knew."
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While that might explain a lot, it's still annoying to be a woman who loves men and can't stand that they don't think enough like me. Not that I don't love women too, but not usually in the sort of way I like boys. Still, this makes me question just how much easier life might be as a lesbian. Although, knowing the lesbians that I know, that might not be the case at all...Maybe it's good that boys are so simple. It's just that I never meet the simple ones...

Fasting and Purging

Not the kind of liquids I'll be having this week.

Happy First Day of Spring!!!
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This was my horoscope on Saturday:

If you were hoping for an easy weekend, you might as well forget it because with the sun aspecting Mars, planet of ego and energy, something will spark your interest, and if anything, you will find yourself working harder than ever. That applies to relationships, too: You will go anywhere and do anything to impress the object of your affection.
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The "object of my affection" happened to be at my place when I decided to check out what was in store for me. "What are you going to do to impress me?" he asked. I couldn't think of anything.

And I haven't done anything to impress him, well, at least not anything in the past week, but I am doing something that I never, in a million years, thought I would do, and it is because of him.

We have this very spiritual relationship. For fear of sounding like a bigger kook than I already am, I don't want to go into more detail right now, but this is the first relationship that I've had in a long while that hasn't been based around the sex. And that's amazing. So last night while he was meditating and looking for answers to other things in his life, he realized that he needed to "wash" out his body, to fast, to do what he calls a master cleansing, and he decided that now was the perfect time to do it.

I spent the night with him last night, and upon my arrival he sat me down and started to tell me about this fast. It would be for five days, ending the night of Good Friday, and it would consist of drinking a concotion of Water, Grade B Maple Syrup (although we only found Grade A), Lemon, and Cayenne Pepper. He had done this before and found the results to be quiet clarifying.

I didn't think twice about what he was doing, except to say that I knew that this would make our communication difficult over the course of the week. Think about it, if you're eating and someone else is not, it's got to be difficult to relate to them.

And then he asked..."Would you fast with me?" I thought about it for less than 30 seconds. Why not? What did I have to lose? It would help me clear my own head and I needed something to help me get back on track. Plus, it was something that even if we didn't do together, it would keep us connected all week. And maybe, although this isn't the reason you should fast, I would lose a couple of those winter pounds. Still, I'm not trying to impress him.

SO...I'm fasting. I've been drinking this master cleanser all morning and peeing quite often. Tonight I'm going to see a Broadway Show and I hope I can sit through the first act without leaking on the seat..or trying to eat the hand of the person next to me, whichever should happen first. I realize part of the reason I'm doing this now is to impress myself.

I'm going to try to fast this whole week, until Friday, when we'll break at some point. I'm also working a regular schedule, so this should be interesting. I think I can do it, it's been a long time since I've practiced such extreme will power.
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Now, onto other things...

I must comment briefly on this since I feel close to the situation at Playgirl.

I don't think the Editor in Chief was fired for her political views, in fact you can't be fired for your political views. I want to say more, but I actually really like Michele as a person and I really like Playgirl and the people that are still employed there...so I'm not going to comment further. Now stop asking...

Still, I wish Michele hadn't written this letter:

Mon Mar 21 2005 10:09:48 ET

**Exclusive**

PLAYGIRL editor-in-chief Michele Zipp has been stripped of her duties after she revealed how she voted Republican in the 2004 election. Zipp, in an e-mail, claims she was fired after an onslaught of liberal backlash.

"Hello Drudge,
"After your coverage of my article about coming out and voting Republican, I did receive many letters of support from fellow Republican voters, but it was not without repercussions. Criticism from the liberal left ensued. A few days after the onslaught of liberal backlash, I was released from my duties at Playgirl magazine.

"After underlings expressed their disinterest of working for an outed Republican editor, I have a strong suspicion that my position was no longer valued by Playgirl executives. I also received a phone call from a leading official from Playgirl magazine, in which he stated with a laugh, "I wouldn't have hired you if I knew you were a Republican. I just wanted to let you know of the fear the liberal left has about a woman with power possessing Republican views."
Developing...

BTW: Did he ever come out of any closets? Just curious...

We Love Prostate!!!!

I was trying to make a clever list of ways to please your man, since I'm supposed to be clever and funny in 9 hours. But, the list wasn't all that funny, and I didn't want to make it funny at the expense of women, by saying things like just shut up and blow, because there are lots of other places that will do just that. So I've opted to blog about something else instead. It's still part of pleasing a man, it's just a little more focused.

I was reading on the train yesterday, the LIRR not the Subway, when the ticket man came up to me and asked if the title of the book was really something he could learn to do (The Multi-Orgasmic Man). I said yes and suggested he pick up a copy of this sucker. I think every man and every one who fucks a man should know about this book...Then, at a party last night, I began to talk about sex, and sexuality, not all that surprising a conversation I know, and realized we need to talk more about it. More about....

THE PROSTATE, the male G-spot, the little walnut shaped gland that all men have but not all men use. I'm thinking it's really important that men massage their prostate. Either by yourself, or with a partner, just touch the fucking thing.

1 out of every 10 or 11 men, the statistic varied in the book The Multi-Orgasmic Man (Chia, Abrams) and I'm too lazy to look it up anywhere else, will eventually get prostate cancer. Loving your prostate can help you stay healthy longer. Now back to our regular programming...

The prostate. Say this with me, I love my (insert word here: boyfriend/husband/fuck buddy/own/lover/partner/*You get the picture) prostate and I'm going to make sure that it gets the necessary attention and adoration it deserves.

Great! The easiest way to gain access to our little friend is by lying on your back (this is for the person with the prostate) and putting a finger or a butt plug in your butt. Anything that goes up your ass must have a flared base or be attached to a larger object that cannot get sucked up your rectum..okay, enough. If you were to insert a well lubed finger into your butt, you would proceed with a "come hither" sort of motion in order to feel the feel. It's the same motion that you use to find a lady's G-Spot, if you're into that sort of thing. The prostate lies just above the pubic bone, behind the perineum or taint (taint your ass, taint your balls), between 1 and 2 inches inside the anterior wall of the rectum. You can also access Mr. Protty Prostate - fine not all that clever, but I'm trying to keep it light in the midst of all this prostate talk by pushing on the "Million Dollar Spot" - the place in between the butt and the balls where this baby resides.

Start out slow and gentle, even though you'll need some pressure to really get at this puppy. It's much easier and nicer to touch the prostate after he is adequately aroused. Once your man's really excited, you can start to massage that sucker.

If you're helping a partner out and he's on all fours, a hot thought in and of itself, just adjust your hands accordingly. Instead of a come hither motion, it's more of a go there sort of thing. And when you're ready to "go there" you can strap on a dildo and harness and give it to him in the butt. Butt...That's a conversation for another time.

Oh, and you can orgasm through prostate stimulation alone, which is a fun fact in and of itself. It's just a different kind of ejaculation, more of a slow drip than a fire hydrant that has just been opened sort of thing.

Filed under the just in case you were wondering portion: Inserting your finger into your butt does not make you gay, unless of course you want to be gay.

Here are my recommendations for some additional information:

Books:
The Multi-Orgasmic Man (Chia, Abrams)
The Ultimate Guide to Strap on Sex (Fairy Butch)
Anal Pleasure and Health (Morin)

Video:
Bend Over Boyfriend (the first one)
Nina Hartley's Guide to Anal Sex (although I haven't seen it, I like everything she does)

A Word from the Sponsor

The cube at Astor Place is officially gone...for now...

BTW..there is no sponsor, that would be me...
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I have to conduct an all day "meeting" today and I can't sleep yet again. I've jumped in and out of bed four times this hour alone (6AM), trying to get up, trying to get down, trying to do something to give myself just a little more rest, but my body won't let me sleep. So now I'm awake.

I'm "officially" working a few days a week for Playgirl (well, TDM actually, but it's part of the Playgirl family). While I've been given the title "Director of New Media," I don't think that accurately fits what I'm trying to do. Although I'm still not so sure myself what that is, I consider myself more of a Director of Education and Media, than someone handling new media, although I'm definitely into learning more about this "podcasting." I know some would argue that there is a lack of "education" in Playgirl, but the point is, I want there to be more...

So today is this meeting of some of highly progressive minds in the sex industry. We're trying to figure out the next step for Playgirl. I can't tell you more, even if I wanted to, which by the way I don't....but if anyone who happens to stumble onto this blog, and whose interest has been held long enough to continue reading these words, wants to let me know what they think Playgirl can do, or should do, I'd love to hear your input. You can post or email me, whatever you prefer, but do something dammit.

Just don't tell me "more erect penises" though. I don't need to hear that. Not that there's anything wrong with an erect dick, or a flaccid one for that matter, it's just that things like that aren't my major concern. And I'm not really concerned with the magazine itself at this point, other people have taken it to the next level already, I'm more concerned with other media outlets.

Okay. I can't think of a way to end this blog today so...........

(yes, that's the end)

Jewish Guilt

Have you ever really seen a leprechaun? I think I'm going to eat myself a bowl of Lucky Charms, I know it's gross that I even have that cereal in my house, but still, it is St. Patty's Day. Aahh...the luck of the Irish. What about the luck of the Jewish?!!!

It was 6:23AM when my body woke itself up naturally this morning. I stayed in bed 30 seconds too long before deciding I was going to make it to my 6:45AM yoga class. At 6:26AM I realized that probably wasn't going to happen, and so I opted to not even try. And now, as my water for tea is about to boil, I'm feeling it bigtime. It..that thing that (almost) every Jew is born blessed with. That Jewish Guilt. So instead, I'll walk the three miles to work this morning. At least I'll feel like I've done something.

I went to hear Beverly Whipple speak last night at the Museum of Sex, the place where, have I mentioned, I will be lecturing on Wednesday, April 20th. It was really cool to get to hear the women who coined the term G-Spot (along with her co-coiner John Perry) talk about that very same thing. Although when I asked her what to say to people who don't believe it exists, people like Dr. Ruth, she got a bit agitated and said, "I don't know what to say. I'm just looking at research, that's all I can say. People believe what people want to believe." I guess I was hoping for a better answer.

At the end of the lecture, Beverly Whipple read a poem she called Life. After using a little of my former producing skills, I found what she referred to as the poem online. It needs to be shared, and credited as best as it can...but it really stuck with me and that's all I know. Apparently it's from a book by James Patterson called "Suzanne's Diary to Nicholas."

"Imagine life as a game in which you are juggling some five balls in the air. You name them - Work - Family - Health - Friends - Spirit, and you're keeping all of these in the air. You will soon understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. But the other four balls -- family, health, friends and spirit are made of glass. If you drop one of these, they will be irrevocably scuffed, marked, nicked, damaged or even shattered. They will never be the same. You must understand that and strive for balance in your life. How?

1. Don't undermine your worth by comparing yourself with others. It is because we are different that each of us is special.

2. Don't set your goals by what other people deem important. Only you know what is best for you.

3. Don't take for granted the things closest to your heart. Cling to them as you would your life, for without them, life is meaningless.

4. Don't let your life slip through your fingers by living in the past or for the future. By living your life one day at a time, you live ALL the days of your life.

5. Don't give up when you still have something to give. Nothing is really over until the moment you stop trying.

6. Don't be afraid to admit that you are less than perfect. It is this fragile thread that binds us together.

7. Don't be afraid to encounter risks. It is by taking chances that we learn how to be brave.

8. Don't shut love out of your life by saying it's impossible to find. The quickest way to receive love is to give; the fastest way to lose love is to hold it too tightly; and the best way to keep love is to give it wings.

9. Don't run through life so fast that you forget not only where you've been, but also where you are going.

10. Don't forget that a person's greatest emotional need is to feel appreciated.

11. Don't be afraid to learn. Knowledge is weightless, a treasure you can always carry easily.

12. Don't use time or words carelessly. Neither can be retrieved."

She closed out the "poem" by reminding me of something I so often forget. Don't live in the past and don't live in the future. Live in the PRESENT, it is a gift, that's why we call it that.

I don't know if I'm just a sap, or it's that I'm suffering from a bad case of Jewish Guilt, but everytime I read this, I wanna cry, I wanna shout, I wanna run naked through the streets of New York screaming, LIFE - LIVE IT. I wouldn't be surprised if that became the next company slogan for one of those sneaker companies that uses lots of cheap labor in other countries, although I've heard there are plenty of sweatshops in New York City as well. Okay...how do I switch gears from here?

It is St. Patty's day. Get dressed up in green, a color that I will refuse to wear today, even if it is my favorite color. Although my jacket's green, and I hope nobody thinks I'm wearing it because it's March 17th, still, it is a day to find some friends and get shit faced, and wear green...if that's your sort of thing. I'm actually going to be in an office all day, which in and of itself might make me green. It don't matter, just don't bite it...a phrase my young foolish self used to utter every so often. I'm not sure what I was usually referring to, but you can draw your own conclusions. After all, I am teaching "How to Please Your Man" this Sunday.

My Favorite Vibrators

So, I'm beginning to think this blog needs a bit more direction, more of a reason to exist than simply because I've decided that it should. Maybe I'll change my mind about purpose, but at least for now, I'm beginning to feel like I need some guidance, that I need to be writing about sex and relationships and things like that more often.

Now, I'm also one of these people who will say this today, and write a blog that has nothing to do with this tomorrrow...but I am going to try to stick to my guns, at least for a week.

SOME REALLY EXCITING NEWS!!! I am speaking at the Museum of Sex in New York City (27th St. between Madison and Broadway) on Wednesday, April 20th at 7PM. I'm going to teach my workshop, the Sexth Sense: How to Incorporate Your Five Senses into Sex Play!!!

Vibrators I Love: even if they can't love me back
Here are my picks for favorite vibes....and just so you know....
What qualifies me to give these to you? Well, I've worked at a sex shop in New York for almost four years, and in that time I've probably sold more sex toys than you have. Plus, I've used a lot of toys, both for personal and professional reasons...

Okay.

Let's talk about vibes. There are lots of different vibrators on the market, and the only difference between a vibrator and a dildo really is that one has the potential to vibrate and one does not. My favorite vibes are hard plastic, which turns a lot of newbies off cause they think that hard plastic hurts if you put it inside yourself, but the truth is, I like the hardness, especially when I want to hit my G-Spot, because in order to get to the G-Spot, you have to go through a wall of muscle in the vagina. (The G-Spot is the urethral sponge). So, again, I like hard plastic. I think it has the best variety when it comes to vibration and it also feels really nice on the clit. But there are also vibrators made of silicone, of soft vinyl, metal, titanium, jelly rubber (a yucky, smelly material in my opinion) and cyberskin. There are probably vibrators made of other materials as well, but these are the most common kinds.

This and this are my two favorite vibes. The first one's called "The Blueberry Buzz." It's water resistant which means yes, you can use it in the shower, and good for both clitoral stimulation and penetration. I like the shape, although I wouldn't complain if they eventually made a thicker version of this toy, and it's got a wide range of speeds. You don't have to use it inside of you, but I like that you can.

The second one is the traditional Pocket Rocket. The waterproof version of this is made by the same company. This is a one speed clitoral vibe...and I love the look and power of this little guy.

Both are under $30 and really easy to clean..just some soap and warm water.
And sometimes men like vibration too. On the balls. On the shaft. On the head of the penis or by the butt.

All I'm saying, is if you haven't tried it, you might want to...you might like it...Vibrators....not only for the ladies.

I M Dorothy

Pill Update: So I called my doctor yesterday and the nurse told me that the bleeding is common as my body adjusts to the pill. Still today marks a week, and so far there hasn't been a day that I haven't bled. She told me to give it another month before they do anything, and seeing that it really does help reduce the risk of some cancers, I'm going to do just that. But I don't like that I can't stop bleeding AT ALL.

"Beware the ides of March.." That's today...but what the fuck does it mean?

Last night I taught my Sexth Sense workshop to less than a cluster of ladies and men at the exclusive Soho House in NYC. The Soho House is a members only club that features all types of the highest rollers this city has to offer. I taught in the White Room, a room furnished with plush, black, leather couches, a bar and shag carpeting on the floor.

I had originally freaked out yesterday because I wasn't supposed to teach the class alone, I was supposed to have a co-facilitator, another sex educator from Babeland. But since the group was less than ten, they thought I could handle it on my own. I thought I couldn't, even though I knew I really would be able to, and wound up spending the remainder of my day nauseous and scared. I wanted to crawl up into a ball and shout "I'm a lump," and then ask if I could go home from work. But I knew I couldn't be a lump when the Soho House happened, regardless of how prepared I didn't realize I was.

Still, there's no stopping what's going to happen. There were a total of six "members" who had paid to hear me speak. Five women and one man. It's actually the kind of workshop I prefer to teach, one with both intimacy and education. And since the drinks kept flowing all night, it became one with great dialogue as well.

First there was the sex hating Jew who had not actually attended my workshop but had found a way to stumble into the room for a peak at the sex toys we were selling after class. She had never owned a sex toy for fear that her mother might find it, a strange thought anyway, and she was amazed that I, a girl who had grown up in the town next to hers, actually had a few toys of my own. She did, by the end of our time together, eventually purchase her first toy.

Then I learned about a Black Amex, something that had impressed one of the members but had meant nothing to a girl who doesn't understand the value of the dollar. Apparently a Black Amex is an invitation only sort of thing, and you're only invited to receive one if you spend over $125,000 a year on your credit card bills. If I ever made that sort of money, I don't know what I'd do with myself, let alone with my exclusive Black Amex.

Then there was the adorable girl who came up to me after the workshop and started her sentence with, "I don't know why I'm telling you this but..." I love when a sentence starts that way because it means that I've gained someone's trust, made them comfortable with something they might not have been comfortable with before they began, and they had thought that I was someone they could actually trust. I love that.

So last night I realized that this is it, the entrance to the road that I've been working on finding for the past few years. I've found the direction, I can see where I'm heading, now it's time to plow ahead. It's definitely not going to be simple or easy, and it's going to be time consuming and roller coaster-esque, but still it's clear that even when I encounter obstacles, like not having a co-facilitator at the Soho House, I'll be able to eventually kick them out of my path.

I am, in a sense, following the yellow brick road. I just wonder what my wizard will look like.

Things to be said

I took this picture. Do you think it's hot? I do.

It's a Sunday afternoon and I'm trying to focus all my writing energy on some of my actual deadlines, so forgive me for the brevity from which I speak.

Outside of work and the occasional random thought about other random things, here's what I've been thinking about today.

I am not on the pill so I can have sex without condoms, although if the opportunity arose and I trusted my partner I'm not saying I wouldn't. According to the Yale Book of Women's Reproductive Health (or some title like that) - being on the pill reduces a woman's risk of ovarian and uterine cancer by 50%! When you've watched enough women under 55 in your own family die of some sort of cancer like that, you start to think that a 50% better chance of survival is something you'd like to aim for.

I am not as depressed as my writing may make me sound.

Why are some of us deep thinkers while others of us hardly think at all? Is there a method to the madness?

I live in the projects. Yes, the projects. Not around them but in them. Last night when I came home at 1AM I realized just what this meant. If I didn't live in the projects I might not, at 1AM, even walk on the same side of the street as these builidngs, but I live in the center of it all. However, the view is magnificent, and that's why I'm here. Is that enough of a reason?

A brief update

This piece is entitled my blood is all drained. I found it online.

As I have no time to write today, there will be no sex toy review, only a lousy few lines about "the pill." I will write in detail at another time, hopefully tomorrow, if I can get my head out of my ass and actually get on with my paying deadlines.

Day 5. Still Bleeding, although I stopped for an appropriate number of hours last night and this morning. "Appropriate for what?" you might be thinking. "Appropriate for none of your business," I might answer.

But alas, again today I've bled. A brighter, happier blood than the dark blood of days past, but red blood nonetheless. I'm refusing to wear a pad because I refuse to acknowledge that the blood has won. Even if it does eventually stain my clothes (which it hasn't as of yet).

So there. I'm bleeding. I'm working. I'm eating a lovely sandwich. And I've just learned that my friend Harry's car was stoned by some Palestinian kids in Israel. I can't attach a link on this computer, but it's theviewfromhere.net if you want to read the f**ked up story. Thankfully he wasn't hurt.

I'm still hurting though. Still cramping. I think I'm going to call my doctor on Monday.

But now I've got to go back to work. Bleeding like a woman and working like a dog. That about sums it up for now.

Voice-Mail

More pictures of me. Does that make me narcissistic?

I went to Playgirl's Ladies Night Out last night at Webster Hall. What an interesting energy! The crowd gets pretty wild, and really into it. Playgirl's on to something. This is what (some) women want. I'm psyched to be part of it. It's quite amazing really to watch women comfortable with sexuality get it on for a night. I'm loving it!!! And it's free drinks...which I'm sure helps the"situation." Anyway....if you're in New York and up for a night out that might not be like anything you've seen before, you should at least check it out once...It's actually not really my thing, but I love being in that sexed up lady energy every once in a while. And it's for the ladies...and only the ladies...until midnight at least.

Confidential to (The following people)

D lowercase l G - yes, you. You called the other day. I miss you too, but do you actually think I'm going to come over to your house and give you a blow job? Sorry dude but I'm not. It's not that I don't like you, but that's not me. Why don't you come over and lick my pussy? Okay, actually, I don't want you to..but...you get the point. No? Yes. Now, let's go out for a drink...and congratulations. on a lot of things. But no, I won't blow you and I don't know about the video. At least not yet.

A.G. - Last time you called I was legitimately at work. But I'm not a good returner of phone calls, or more accurately, it sometimes takes me a little while to get back to you. Unless of course I'm fucking you, then I'll probably return your phone call with some rapidity. But I'm not fucking you. I really want to see you too...but next week is bad. What's your week after that like?

M.A. - Where the fuck are you? I miss your witty banter and the way you make fun of me. You're really good at showing me how annoying I can be. It's like therapy without going to therapy. I should call you.

I'm not a bad friend, I'm just lazy about talking to people these days. I need to stay in some nights now. I keep to myself more. I'm not sure why. I'll blame it on the pill. Oh, and today's "flow," - heavy....

I am all over the place and...I'm in a very business sense of mind.

I think I'm going to start doing sex toy reviews on this site...Doc Johnson is starting to send me their newest sex toys and I've just "reviewed" a few myself..so why not share the wealth..well, sort of...

Next time. Yes, next time.

Life and other stuff....

I have a nauseous pit in my stomach. The kind I used to get when I was nervous about performing in a school play or feeling stressed about studying. Now I just get it because there aren't enough hours in a day and I spend my time running all over the freezing cold city. I'm feeling a little down too. But this, this I'm blaming entirely on the pill.

So, when does March start looking like a lamb?

I've been neglecting yoga and all other forms of healthy living. Not the best thing I could be doing for my body or my mind at this point, but life is full of rejection. Last night I was going to set my alarm for a 6:45AM yoga class when A. convinced me tht 6:45 was not only too early, but also too cold. Still, I had to pee like nobody's business this morning, and when I got out of bed it was pretty bright outside. I was convinced that it had to be close to 8:00, but when I looked at my clock it read 6:17. I contemplated the hidden meaning behind waking up just in time for yoga, and after 3 minutes of trying to convince myself that it wasn't worth it, I got my big butt out of bed and ran to the class.

I knew I'd feel good about it later, but really, now, I'm not feeling so good. I just want to get back into bed. So much for feeling better for long. I think I have an ulcer. Okay, not really, but I feel like I should be getting one with all the stress I'm creating around my life. Things are great. That's the most important message I can get across. But they (things) are also busy, demanding and ridiculous at the same time.

I'm still bleeding, but at least I'm not cramping. I just wish the dumb blood would stop leaving my body when it's not supposed to. At least it's not too heavy, because then I'd think I was hemorrhaging and that would be bad. Or at least worse than just a light, annoying, pill induced flow. How does one become a hypochondriac anyway? And why are Jews always thought of as being the biggest ones?

I don't even know why I write somedays. I mean I haven't really said anything, but still I have to say something. Well, actually there's a lot more to say, but I'm just not in the mood to say it. "Say" La Vie. (Yes, I know it's c'est, but I'm punny like that)...

Press Spotting

Last night, I was elected President of Feminists for Free Expression, even though I'm not a fan of the word Feminist. While I'm excited, I'm not sure what to do with this news.

It took me about 20 minutes to be able to log on to my site to update things today, and each time I tried to get on, it would take me to a search of my name. I found some interesting press that I didn't know I had. It's not much really, but still, it's funny when you read about yourself.

From Aneros:
Playgirl Magazine | September 2004
Sex.Ed with Sexplorer Jamye Waxman
In this sex advice column, the author writes that the Aneros is one of her two favorite sex toys for men.

And from the Playgirl Press Release:
Also in the April issue, PLAYGIRL'S Jamye Waxman sits down for a candid conversation with Candida Royalle, former porn star turned feminist, writer and director to chat about her new book, How To Tell a Naked Man What To Do.

But enough about me, let's talk more about you...what do you think of me?
Ha Ha.

"Hey Jamye, how do you feel today?"

Well, self, thanks for asking. Actually, I feel spotty. I am crampy and a little concerned. I started "The Pill" this month and I'm having some not so pleasant side effects. And they are rather unexpected. Yesterday I started spotting, a term that in and of itself makes me want to throw up last night's rather yummy french cuisine, and then it stopped. But today, this morning, I noticed that I was "spotting" again (you'll never think of a spot of tea the same again), and now I have really bad cramps and I'm feeling like I've just stared my period. Only I'm on day 10 of the 21 days of pills I am supposed to take before I even get my "fake" period.

I looked on the instructions for the pill to see if I should be alarmed. Basically it tells me nothing.

"Irregular vaginal bleeding or spotting may occur while you are taking the pills. Irregular bleeding may vary from slight staining between periods to breakthrough bleeding which is a flow much like a regular period. So, basically you might bleed a lot or a little, or any amount in between. Irregular bleeding occurs most often during the first few months of oral contraceptive use, but may also occur after you have been taking the pill for some time. So, you might bleed the first few months, you might bleed longer, you might not bleed at all, it doesn't matter. Such bleeding may be temporary and does not indicate serious problems. Or what, it might be permanent? Consult a doctor if it persists more than one cycle or more than a few days"

So, what the manufacturer is telling me is this: There may be something to my vaginal spotting which is quickly turning into bleeding, or everything may be just fine. In other words we've learned nothing except that it might be normal for me to bleed. But damn, I've never had regular periods and now I'm cramping like it's going out of style. I thought I was supposed to feel better on the pill.

I'm not trying to alarm myself. It's just that I'm a hypochondriac and there's no fun in bleeding or cramping or spotting, or whatever the f**k you want to call it. It's just not a way to start a bright and sunny day.

Things with Balls

Is there something wrong with you if you know that you're not going to be near your computer tomorrow, so you start typing tomorrow's blog tonight? And then still you don't publish it until 11:25PM.

Just asking.

Ooh, that almost felt like a Page Six item, you know one of those 'just asking' blips. And why isn't Page Six always on Page Six? Whatever. Page Six is tabloid trash, just like the rest of that damn newspaper. However, I will admit that when and if I am to indulge in a paper that won't take me all day to read on a Sunday, which is when I prefer the NY Times, then this is my paper of choice. It's so bad that it's good. Hence, why I sometimes read Page Six - oh, and I always read my horoscope.

I don't want to talk about Page Six anymore.
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There's a visual from this past weekend that I can't seem to shake from my mind. And even though I'm going to tell you what it is, the shame of it is that you'll never really get to fully understand what I saw, because I don't have a picture to go along with my experience. I'm kicking myself now because I was offered a picture and I refused. I didn't want to remember what it was at the time, but now that I can't get it out of my mind I might as well have the visual imagery to go along with the rest of the story.

Okay. This guy was naked at this party on Saturday night. He was an "older" man, probably in his late 50s or early 60s and not one of the most in shape people I've ever seen. He had a belly that hung low, and would have probably covered his entire nuts and bolts, only I don't think they could have been covered. Yeah. That's the thing. Of course I stared a little bit at first when I saw what I thought was a coconut shell covering his penis and sac. In fact I was so sure that he was wearing the shell of a fruit, that I didn't continue to stare.

And then, later in the evening, he was performing on the stage in the front room of this party and I happened to wander in. He was reading out of a notebook, a piece entitled “Why I Like to Be Naked” and it was then that I decided to stare some more at his balls. The longer and harder I stared the more I realized that I was indeed staring at his naked scrotum, not some coconut shell outer covering. And I still couldn’t find his penis!!!! I asked my friend E. if he could see anything and as we pointed and stared we both realized that we could see something....we could both see his really large nutsac. I'm talking larger than any other ball sac I've ever seen.

He got off the stage and I asked my friend E. if I could ask him where his penis was. He said as long as I did it nicely. So when I asked, and finally saw it, I realized he had some sort of elephantitus of the balls. And I'm thinking he may have even done this to himself, with some sort of saline injection. I don't know. I don't want to talk about it anymore.

It's taken me all day to finish this damn thing.

Relating

Me. Saturday night.

I'm trying to think of words to describe a relationship that isn't boyfriend/girlfriend.

I don't like being called simply a "friend" because that can't accurately describe something that involves more than friendship. I don't like "friends with privilege" either because that still sounds like all you're doing is getting some on the side. And lover sounds like there's nothing but sex going on. Maybe lady or man friend? Kind of has a less serious ring than boyfriend or girlfriend, but a more serious tone than friend.

Or what about flova, my version of friend + lover, only it has some sort of New York accent at the end. Or partner, although that sounds too relationshipy I guess.

I just finished my column this week for Steppin Out and although it may be one of my worst columns yet, it mentions the man I've been "seeing," another term I hate because we see a lot of people, and while he once described me as a "friend with privilege" I don't want to use that term back at him. So I've been thinking about the best way to describe what we have without calling it a "relationship," cause that's another scary term sometimes.

Oh, and while we're on the subject, I hate the term "making love." It seems so fake. Just say fucking, screwing or having sex, but making love, what's that all about. How do you make love and what does love look like?

Maybe I just need to grow up and call a spade a spade. But what is a spade anyway?

Is something better than nothing?

So my iPod isn't being recognized by my computer anymore. It hasn't been for days. I've downloaded all these new songs and I can't get them to get on my little white box of joy. And I can't get my charger to actually charge the iPod, so now, I'm listening to the same 949 songs (gasp!) and my battery is almost dead. What's an iPod fanatic to do? Yes, I know get it checked out...okay, fine I'm calling iPod now.

In other news....I hate days like today. Days where I'll leave my house no later than 11:30 this morning and days where I won't return until tomorrow. Yes, you read correctly..TOMORROW...I mean, it's totally my choice, but today is full of a lot of different things to do. First there's work, then my good friend Darlinda just Darlinda is competing in the Miss Lower East Side Pageant, and then, then I have a party to attend. So, no matter when I get home, it's going to be tomorrow. Okay...truth is, I probably won't even stay in my apartment tonight. But that again is nobody's business.

So the iPod guy wouldn't help me unless I paid $50 and guess what..I decided to really reset the iPod and now, now it's working!!! I fixed the problem. I FIXED THE PROBLEM...Techinically unsaavy me fixed my own damn problem.

Okay. I obviously have nothing of major importance to say today. It's only cause I don't want to say anything of major importance that I have nothing to say. Or maybe I mean to say nothing?

Life begins on hold

I have Internet access in my home. Strange but true, I myself am still not sure I believe it. Only thing I did wrong, which is sort of a big thing, is I didn't get my copies of the bill and stuff from the cable guy. Strange, since you would think either he or I would remember, but my excuse is that I had friends over, I had had a drink, and quite frankly I was done thinking for the day. While the cable man was really nice, and really helpful, not giving me my receipt, which has my passcode on it for others to share in my wireless joy, is not the smartest thing in the world. As I type this I am on hold with TWC, as I always seem to be on hold with them, and am waiting to see how we can rectify this situation.

So much shit is potentially hitting the fan. Mostly in a good way, although I've had to make some decisions I wasn't necessarily happy about making. See, I'm learning, like a big girl should, that I can't do everything. And while I want to, it's just not going to happen. So now, now I'm starting to realize what I can do and do that. And do it well...well enough that maybe my life will really start to shape up in the next few years. And, if I fuck up, maybe not. I hate all these choices, these options of things that could happen. Too much option makes me batty. When I became a vegetarian, I liked how little choice I was afforded at restaurants and in supermarkets. I had one choice on menus and no choices at (a good deal of) restaurants. Really. Back in 1989, the United States was not a vegetarian happy society. I remember having to create my own dish on more than one occasion. Which might explain why I still feel the urge to change anything I order off a menu. Okay, not everything, but some things. Some people say it's quite annoying to go out to eat with me.

Back to this on hold thing...

I think my whole month's cellphone bill is going to Time Warner. They continue to keep me on hold longer than any other company. I'm at 12:38... do you think if I leave a message they will really get back to me? I'm looking around like maybe I don't see the receipt, but actually it's nowhere in the house.

Hold Time: 15:44

So now I'm on the phone with Terry at TWC and I don't think she likes me very much. That's okay, as long as she can help me, I don't care. It's strange to be able to type from my home at 9AM, since I haven't been able to do go online in months, but receipt or no receipt, remember: TWC delivered. Verizon didn't.

I need to stretch..both my body and my mind.
I think it's time to get back into yoga. I've been lax about it these past few weeks, but with this new life must come a new exercise regime.

Like I said, it's only the beginning....

I'm off hold.

The Haze is Clearing

Tasty!!!

I am having one of the most vaporific fresh breath sort of days. In fact, it's so crystal clear a headspace sort of day that I don't know how much of what I'm gutterly feeling I should trust. I've got big meetings and other things of the sort, and as I really feel like it's all starting to make sense, I mean at this very moment, I also recognize that this too may pass.

I've been waiting for a signal and today in the shower I think I got my sign. It's just that I've never been one to trust myself, which is the reason that while I can tandem skydive or bungyjump if someone else ties the towels and cord around my legs, I can't skydive by myself or ski. I trust myself but only if others push me.

Well, I am the only one who can push me, it's today that I've recognized that I need to push me in my right direction. Although who knows if there is ever really a right direction, there's just a direction my gut can tell me to go in. But I'm really trying to listen to it and make some big decisions.

Bigger work decisions than I've ever made in my life. So, today, please excuse me for my cluttered head or the lack of confidence in what I think I have to do. Give me 24 hours to figure this thing out, at least to take it to the next level, and love me anyway.

After all, I lick a nice piece of ass...wouldn't you agree?

The Internet Touch

I am so cursed when it comes to getting Internet access..so cursed. Okay, so first, the DSL thing that never happened, because I don't have copper wires in my basement. Whatever. Apparently copper wires aren't so hard to come by. Unless of course you live in the projects, than you get no respect whether you have fiberglass or copper. Again - whatever. So today I got my second email from Verizon letting me know that they have reviewed my line and they can't give me DSL access. I guess that's a good thing since I CANCELLED MY PHONE LINE DAYS AGO, and besides, they had sent me an email over a week ago already telling me this.

Okay, then today. So I happily and anxiously sign up for cable - (thanks to some added encouragement from the peanut gallery). I am overly psyched when they tell me that I can have Internet access by this Wednesday..meaning today..YIPPEE!!! Yesterday the nice automated cable lady called my cell phone and had me press 1 to reconfirm our appointment. I was so stoked about cable, pathetic, but true, and so stressed about life. See, I've been suffering from the realization that I currently feel as if I'm running on a treadmill, reaching for the cheese that's hanging above my head, but not being able to grab at it. I love cheese. And I hate running in place. So, this scenario makes me a very cranky lady. But, that's just my career...it'll change soon...promise...

Anyway, so on top of this "treadmill trauma," I'm now waiting and waiting for the cable guygal to come and it's 11:25 and I realize that they are only supposed to come between the hours of 8AM and 12Noon and now I have this feeling that they aren't coming at all. So I call Time Warner Cable and punch in my number and I hear the lovely recorded lady's voice say, "You have an appointment scheduled for March 4th, from 10-2PM." I start freaking out in my mind. After 20 minutes or so, I get an operator who tells me that someone has called TWC this morning and cancelled my appointment! I am appalled, actually worse than that, I start to cry. More like bawl. Like this is the worst thing in the world, when I fucking know it doesn't even come close. I speak to a supervisor. They ask me if I'm sure I haven't cancelled. I tell them that unless I'm schizophrenic, I didn't call them this morning. I laugh, cause at least I find this funny. They tell me they'll see what they can do. I hear nothing for hours...

I'm typing this blog and I get a call that they can't come today, but they have set up a time more in tune with my schedule. And although now I type this and want to be angry, I'm feeling a bit better, even though I've been feeling progressively happier all day.

See, I gave myself appropriate alone time today, something I've been challenging myself to do more and more these past few weeks. I need to realize that I am the only person who will always be able to make me happy. Life will happen. People will crap on you, you'll crap on them, good things will come to you, bad things too and stupid people will constantly be in positions of authority. I'm learning how to deal with all of this information as I continue to go through this evolution thing. Last night as I was dozing off to sleep I came up with my newest "calming" mantra:

Whatever is supposed to be will be. It will happen how it should happen.

Not too original. But maybe original isn't what I'm looking for today.

March(ing) forward

I can't upload a picture today, or more correctly tonight, because I'm typing this from work and I'm on the computer that controls the whole store and if I download something that f**ks this place up, I am a dead woman. Well, not really "dead" but I'd feel pretty damn bad about it.

I haven't been going out at night. I'm trying to be really focused on my writing and my beauty sleep and on how to be more productive during the day. And seeing that it's ridiculously cold and unfortunate on the streets of New York, I have once again successfully managed to find a way to be home after work. Even if work ends at 10PM, the fact that I'm going home and not going out makes me feel a bit more responsible. My friend A. says it's because I'm 30 and my body is getting tired. I hope that's not it at all. I'm making conscious decisions, but now I need to know, do we really go out less as we age?

Anyway, March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb. At least that's what I learned in kindergarten. I'm still trying to figure out where February flew to... Fine, February is a short month, but still, why do I seem to be getting older faster and faster every year?

Whenever I think of that March/lion thing, I also want to say...I am woman hear me roar. No reason for wanting to say this really...as there is no reason for my writing today. Except that it's March 1st and I wanted to post.

Oh, and I'm teaching another class at Toys in Babeland on March 20th...it's called "How to Please Your Man." Tickets: $30. Don't wait til the last minute.

Kind of makes me sound like a pro, don't you think?