jamYe waXman. seX matters.

Next time

I have a whole new attitude today. That's all that matters.

This was what I was going to originally post..but I then decided not to, only I really decided to post it anyway..but pretended I wouldn't...

Now, i'm just being silly. It's not translating well.
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Why do you care about my life? What is it that makes you read this? You're not going to answer, few people do, but I'm curious because I'm once again obsessing on the importance of blogging. How significant does blogging make me feel? Or why do I do it and why are you reading this? This blog has become the measure of how important I am in your life. And quite frankly, we all know, in the scheme of things, I'm not all that important. Not in a bad way at all. The blog also measure of how close my friends are to my world.

Usually when I run into someone on the street, they'll either tell me how they do, or don't, or haven't in a long time read my blog. But why do it anyway? And why am I so neurotic? Is it really a Jewish thing.

The blog might go down. At least for a little while. It might even have to start up under the guise of another blog. I hope I don't lose it all, but I might. That spam problem is really annoying. I feel like bombing the whole thing and starting all over. Only I guess I should print out some of the entries first. So I have a documented copy of it. For me, this is the diary of my life.

Sort of.

So, I've officially decided to chill the fuck out. It's been one week of not being me. I feel like I'm about to pop, so I've decided I have to calm down. It's been a rough few days, all probably because I can be a drama queen. It's not all that attractive.

Today, I realized this and am making amends.

The shoots in three and half days.

Loss and Life

It's the moments I find to type this that truly amaze me. Perhaps I shouldn't be writing at all right now, but I feel like, while I don't make any money off of this damn blog, I'm addicted to updating.

I didn't sleep well last night. In fact I don't think I fell asleep til way after 3AM and I got into bed around 11:45. That sucked. And then I had this one dream that wasn't all that much fun. L., was in all of my dreams. She's my former roommate and one of my closest friends. I think she was in all of my dreams cause I had thought a lot about her yesterday. Whatever.

The dreams varied and were strange and there were a couple of them that I remember, and most of them were fine, but in all of them I kept losing something. In one dream it was my bag of laundry, but then we found it. Another time I broke a lamppost, and I just left it on the floor for someone else to fix...I know, my bad..but then I was on the subway and I got off without my computer, a wad of cash, and my life bag (sort of like a life partner or pocketbook, only different). It was the 6 train, and it was stopped at 33rd street for a while (how's that for specifics in a dream) but I couldn't find L., who was still on the subway when I got off, or my bag, or anything and I walked through the all the different cars. And then I got back off the train for a split second and the train doors shut and I realized everything was gone forever.

There was a lot of loss in my dreams last night. Hmm..wonder what that means?

And my computer seems to be having fan issues again. She's making funny noises even though she was flown away and returned to me. I even bought a new computer bag., and I'm treating her well, but she's still acting up. This frightens me so.

I've got to go back to doing things for next weeks shoot. No more talk of loss, only life. Something I'd like back sooner than later please.

VideoLand

Passover '05. Me and G-ma.

Videoland is where I live right now. It's actually where I'll probably be living until after May 16th, when I return from a trip to the other coast.

These next few days are going to be hard on me as a blogger. I was reading a last week's magazine, I forget which one now, but it was talking about the relevancy of blogging as journalism. I guess I'm not one of those journalistic blogs, but it got me thinking, how can I make myself more relevant?

Today things seem to be moving nicely around the video shoot. Couples are getting the proper paperwork in order, the space we want to use it opening up to us, things seem to be, at least for the moment, falling into some semblance of the right space. And, I've given myself some backup options. At least as far as location is concerned. Now, as far as starlets, well, that's another story.

Uhm, otherwise, I haven't been thinking much about anything. Except that I am queen of PDA (Public Displays of Affections) and maybe, just maybe, a lot of people don't want to see me making out in public. I think I got a little carried away this past weekend. While L. my friend and confidante, suggested that I carry a bell around and pass it off to any third parties in an attempt to break up any long kisses between me and the object of my PDA, let's just say that my grandmother called me "rude and disgusting."

But I know she didn't mean it. She was just jealous.

Oh....Snap.

Rocking

Everyday I feel..but today I feel great. A little worried about this video shoot which is in just over a week, but I feel great nonetheless. Things are finally falling into place. I love the couples that have agreed or are on the fence about agreeing to do this. They all rock. I found a co-host, he rocks harder. I found my vision, thanks to the help of my cohost, and it rocks harder than anything else can possibly rock and..for the first time in a long while, I actually think this will fucking work and R.O.C.K...since that seems to be the word of the paragraph - and it also happens to be the first name of someone I know who happens to have a girlfriend and together the two of them, yep, you guessed it, rock...

Okay, enough rocking, there will be plenty more of that next week. Let's talk about relationships...since that is one of my favorite obsessions.

This will sound cheesy but...Have you ever been connected with someone and actually felt their pain? Call me a freak if you will, but I had a similar experience just last night. My flova turned boyfriend, why does that word still make me laugh really hard?, has this thing, this thing I won't go into cause it's his thing not mine, but it's this really intense stiffness in one of his chakras - okay, this is not as out there as some of you may think it sounds - and, anyway, it's been there since I've known him. Last night he was saying it was really tense, and I was holding him close, and all of a sudden, I was feeling his pain. We both felt some of his tenseness transfer over from him to me. It was an experience I can't claim to have ever had before. But then again, the whole night was surreal. I highly recommend everyone check out a full moon ceremony if you can..they only happen once a month (duh!).

It's strange, I feel closer to him than ever. I feel better about this project than ever. I feel like for the first day in months, I am not only on the path, but actually enjoying the experience of moving down the road. For the first time in a long while, I see my (immediate) future..and as long as something unexpected doesn't happen, it's gonna rock!!!

How's that for positivity?

Fry-day

Do you think he'd be good at oral?

I've been told by a man who shall remain namelessly close to me that I am a warrior and this is my path and I should relax and enjoy it. Right now, as in today, the only relaxation I seem to get is in the moments that I stop doing whatever it is I have to do to get my work done, and masturbate. Yes, I said MASTURBATE. I think I've gone like 5 or 6 times already. It doesn't take long, not with my trusty little water dancer, and for the 5-10 minutes before I actually cum, I have the clearest head I've had in years. He, the above mentioned boy but not the man in the picture, says I should meditate, and I'm thinking about it, but I haven't got the time to both meditate and masturbate. Although, now that I've masturbated enough, maybe next time I'll sit and "om". Maybe.

I'm eating poorly, meaning I'm eating the remains of a two week old Carvel birthday cake. It tastes kind of stale but I just can't stop eating it anyway. It's better than forgetting to eat, which is what happened Wednesday night after my lecture. A banana is definitely not dinner.

And then in the middle of trying to enjoy my chaotic day, I fell asleep. And now, I've just woken up..

So, where was I?

Relations

Last night went well. At least that's the response I'm hearing back from others. I wonder if it had gone awful, if it had been a complete disaster, would people really tell me how much I sucked? How fucking awful I was? It doesn't really matter, I didn't suck. Most of the couples who came to the workshop stayed around after I was finished to tell me how much they enjoyed listening to me speak. T., the producer of the series of How To videos I'm about to "star" in, told me I played with my hair too much. J., my flova, told me that I can't talk negatively about myself anymore. L., my #1 fan and #1 friend, told me I did great.

Whatever. The fact that strangers approached me to talk about sex was super-duper cool, especially because it meant I was approachable and easy to talk to. That's exactly how I'd like to be seen. As a sex educator that people can relate to.

Two people asked me to sign, as in autograph, their copies of Playgirl Magazine. That was a trip. I don't think I've ever signed an autograph before, even if that one guy at AVN this year asked me to cause he thought I was a porn star. They didn't think I was an adult entertainer last night. And, Of course I tried to act all professional and shit when they asked for my signature, but in my head all I could think was, why me? why do you want me to sign this? I'm just Jamye Waxman the girl who grew up a freak in Plainview, NY.

Still, I realized that I need to practice my signature, the same way I practiced it when I was a little girl and had a crush on Eric M. I signed my name Ms. M. all the damn time. Oh, and then there were the other crushes, and the other future husbands, which is ironic because I don't even know if I ever want to have a 'husband' anymore. I can barely get over the terms boyfriend and girlfriend, even though I may start using the term a little more often (in my own private Idaho that is). But still, when I think about the term I think back to Stacey E.'s basement when I was in tenth grade, when my first (and almost only) boyfriend asked me if I wanted to make "it" official, if I wanted to be boyfriend and girlfriend. I remember thinking it was such an awkward way to broach the subject and it had made me uncomfortable for a brief second, but after it was all said and done we were a couple. And we stayed a couple for the next nine years. Since then I haven't had anyone that I called boyfriend, even if I can think of one boy who definitely thought he was more than a friend. In fact, it was three years after our "relationship" had ended that he asked me if I missed him at all. It was so strange to me, I had been in other not-so-healthy relationships since him, and had actually not thought much about him, and here he was still thinking a bit about me...Actually, I think he really did love me, was really in love with me, which is ironic cause since then it seems that every guy I like a lot never likes me just the same...I guess that's just the way it goes...

But that's not the point here, although I'm not sure what the point here is..oh yes, I think for the first time in six years I'm actually in some semblance of a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship. And it's great but really, really strange. I can't believe it's been six years. I can't believe this is the first time since then. And I can't believe how super he is. Really.

Okay, I'll shut up now. I have videos to produce and movies to cast. Hey, anyone want to have oral sex on camera?

Having a day

It's 420..haha..

It's not that I want today to be over, cause I don't, but I sort of just want today to be over. I hope that makes sense. I'm "teaching" tonight, at the Museum of Sex (see yesterday's blog) and I'm on a heightened sense of nervouseness alert. That along with trying to reevaluate certain relationships in my life has, most definitely, put me on high stress alert as well. And, I'm a little bit sick..and it's not just in the head today. Well, actually it is in the head, but it's more in the throat. Last night it hurt a lot to swallow. A lot lot. In fact I think I woke up numerous times in the evening praying that it wouldn't hurt so much when I woke up. But you know how it hurts more in the morning than it did at night, or do I have that reversed, well, whatever, I couldn't swallow for the first few minutes of awake time today. And I've been sneezing a lot. But I don' feel sick outside of some uncomfortable sneezes and a bit of a sort throat. My phlegm isn't yellow.

I'm going to change my birth control pill. This is my off week, and I'm literally more off than I've ever been. I've been down all week..and I'm down about tonight..even though I know I will kick butt!!!! (there's the positive me :)

Okay, my insecurities are getting the best of me and most people would agree that letting your insecurities show is an ugly thing. A very ugly thing.

I'll shut up now.

Tomorrow Night

If you live in New York and want to support me...not financially, just emotionally and physically...well, not physically as in have to hold me up physically, but as in being there for me physically - here are the "detes":

04.20.05
The Museum of Sex
It's the class I designed called "The Sexth Sense."
7-9PM
$10
27th St. Between Madison and 5th Ave.

I'm really nervous about being good. Or not boring. I think not boring is more important than good.

Even though you now have to email me to comment..thanks to the spamfuckers, I'd still like to know what you think.
hottwax@gmail.com

Is it better to be good or not boring?
And what's the difference between being in love and just loving?

Inquiring minds want to know. Fuck it. I want to know.

Queen of the Damned (Computers)

Hey Gregg..this is for you. Me. Happy Times. This Past Saturday. You mad?

...That seems to be my latest and greatest title du jour. I mean, own personal title like Miss Universe or Princess of Wales. Jamye Waxman - Queen of the Damned (Computers). I have the not so midas touch.

First it's the thinkpad. My own personal baby of a computer. Shipped back to the factory after a "fan error" aneurysm from out of the blue. She won't be returned to my arms until this Thursday, at least that's the date the doctors tell me.

Then it was my Mac. I think she can be saved, but right now she's not feeling so well. I brought her in from the bowels of my parents basement to give to my flova (Friend + lova') and we plugged her in and kick started her booty just last night. She froze up after a while, but I figured it was just because she'd been out of commission for over a year. However, this morning, after he had left for work, I grumbled out of bed and turned on my baby. Only now she can't find her finder and without the startup disk, yeah, you probablyl guessed it, the computer is uhm, shall we say, not fucking working.

So, I left my dad's other laptop at my flova's, because I have access to computers all day at work and should get mine back in the next few days, while he now has absolutely no computer to use, because my father took his old one to try repair it, because, his computer was supposed to die before mine, but then mine had its aneurysm, and now it's getting a new fan so it can live again, but there's still a problem with my dad's laptop as I can't seem to get it to access my flova's high speed connection and that would suck if he couldn't...and, was that the longest run-on sentence ever yet, or not really?

I taught a class that made me pensive this past Friday. Only it shouldn't have (felt sad) because everyone else seemed happy. But it was supposed to be this girl's wedding bachelorette party, only her fiancee cancelled the nuptials a few weeks beforehand, and she didn't want to cancel the party, so she had it anyway, but her friends called it an empowerment party.

It was awesome. Made me see how life goes on all the time. And today I'm blaming the pill for my emotional life, cause there are some people in this world who can vouch for my emotional retardeness, and yes, I use that word because it seems to fit most appropriately. I need to chill out when it comes to certain things, and care more when it comes to others. I spend too much time obsessing on relationships, and obsessing on this obsession is a current obsession of mine.

Hmm.............

Crankypants

Some days I'm cranky for less than explainable reasons, and today is one of those days. In fact I'm so cranky that I don't even want to be around me, and if I could peel off my skin and run away I think I would. Every little annoying thing a person can do is pissing me off to a much larger degree than it should. It's probably not a good day to be social, in fact I'm totally into being anti-social today, but there's one glitch in my plans. Tonight I have to be social. Shit. It must be PMS.

Tonight I'm teaching a private workshop at a public location and I feel like it might be somewhat of a challenge. Here's the dileo...it's for a girl who was supposed to be getting married but isn't getting married anymore. I am not sure if this ending was her choice or his, well, I have an idea and I don't think it was her's, and so this is a how to please your man, please yourself, empowerement sort of workshop. It's going to require a lot of TLC, and I am trying to save up my energy for 17 women and one "in need of eXXXtra love" special girl.

Last night I had a really bad dream about the end of my relationship. Yes, I said relationship, because even though the boy I "date" is still my flova (friend + lova'), there is a lot of emotional involvement tangled up in it all. And last night I dreamt that me, him and L. my friend who will soon have two eyes of vision, were at a restaurant and I got bossy, he got up, walked out and never came back. Of course I ran out to find him and he was already with another woman, an ex actually, and he had no interest in hearing a word I had to say. I begged and pleaded for him to listen to me, to just give me one more chance, although desperation gets you nowhere, and he didn't want to talk at all. He kept telling me I'd be alright, something of course I knew, but didn't want to hear. The thing that scares me more than the thought of him rejecting me is that this whole scenario reminded me a lot of the interactions between me and my nine year relationship, yes I said nine years 1989-1998 (ages:15-24).

Not only did that relationship not end well, but it didn't really go all that well to begin with. My flova reminded me a lot of my ex. only in my dream, and I reminded me a lot of the girl that I was while I was dating my ex. They say that dreams bring up your insecurities, and shit, when it comes to relationships I have a lot of insecurities to iron out.

A lot of insecurities. Okay, lets change the subject. It's making me pissy and uncomfortable. I am so exhausted right now I could lay my head down on the cold, hard desk and happily pass out. Which I find mildly scary, being that last night I napped from 7:30-9PM (I had a yummy 10PM dinner with some amazing individuals) and then I slept at least 7 hours after that. So, why the F*** am I so tired?!

I'm running out of steam. Typing takes too much effort. It's a shame I have no computer at home anymore, cause I could continue this later, but yesterday I had to ship my thinkpad to some other state to get it fixed. I feel like I've lost my right hand, only I'd rather lose my computer than actually lose my right hand.

Okay...enough..like I said, everything I say today is pissing me off. Why am I such a crankypants sometimes?

What the F.?

If Mercury hasn't left retrograde then it better fucking be leaving soon. Okay, fine, I know it's leaving soon, but today has been one of those "is this really happening to me" sort of days. Select Internet sites aren't working at the Playgirl offices, and while these certain sites don't include my blog, they include all outlets to my email.

Planning a porn shoot without email is not easy. So, I decided to plug in my home laptop, since I brought it to work anyway, to see if I could pick up wireless anywhere in the office. Only problem is there's a "fan error" that has taken over my computer and now my computer won't even turn on. Did you hear what I said - IT WON'T EVEN TURN ON. I did hear a funny noise last night coming out of the thing, and I remember thinking, "Uh, oh that doesn't sound good," but give me a goddamn break, and at least a few days notice.

Ironically my flova's (friend + lova') computer has been on the fritz for the past two weeks, and we've been crossing our fingers, hoping that it won't die. My computer, the one I just got for my birthday, had been acting fine until yesterday and now, now it's like it had a brain aneurysm. Out of nowhere it's gone. I have to send it in cause it's under warranty and I'm cheap like that. And, as I was walking to work today I passed a 50 cent advertisement, one where he was saying something like live for today because you don't know if you have tomorrow, and with the death of my computer, I totally get what he's saying.

But more exciting things are happening, and we pushed the shoot off one week. This gives me a tad more breathing space. And I get to go to the national AASECT (Am. Association of Sex Educators, Counselors and Therapists) Conference in Portland, Oregon this year, thanks to my wonderful job. I've never been to Oregon, so I'm pretty damn psyched. I booked my flights today!!!!

I'm mentally exhausted and my contacts are blurry, so I can only see sometimes...but tonight should be fun. Cause tonight, tonight my flova organized a silly hat party for me...well, because of me. Although my hair looks good today and I don't want to ruin it with a hat. I'm just being difficult. It's one of those days. Or maybe it's PMS, who really knows.

Realizing things..or another boring blog about me...

Would you trust this face?

But first...there’s a woman preaching the bible in my lobby. I don't mean reading the bible either, I mean preaching and she happens to have an audience of two. Not only that but she is one of the NYCHA watchguards. How many times have you heard that one before?

I've been running around all day. I’m not complaining about this, mind those of you who may think I am, but I’ve walked over four miles today. I had too. I’m obsessive compulsive about walking in the spring.

Pill Update:
I started bleeding again yesterday. Or the night before that, I'm not sure. Nothing too bad. Just a little spotting - mmm, how I love that word!

Office update:
I wanna fall asleep every afternoon at approximately 3PM. Apparently when the clock strikes 3, I get really tired, no matter what. And we had random Internet access today which is always quite sucky. More so because you realize just how much you rely on your damn computer as a search and communication tool that you need it to work. When did computers (in a lot of jobs) become a necessity?

It’s days like this that I wish I could work from home. But a lot of good came out of today, and it’s nice to have reconnected with some old, really smart, totally good at what he does, yet sometimes annoying friends. I mean that in the nicest way possible.

I’m doing a lot of exciting things, really exciting, only tonight I was made to realize that I hadn’t been looking at them that way. Strange as it seems, I only now fully understand. Thanks to L., who happens to be getting eye surgery tomorrow and for the first time ever she'll be able to see out of both eyes (she was born blind in one eye, but I'm a bad friend cause I don't remember which one). Still, how cool is that?!

What I'm thinking right now:
I don’t like baking under the fluorescent lights of a midtown office but I feel very lucky to be given the opportunities that these flourescent lights represent.

Violation

"Feet Fetish"

Okay.. I just got off of work and feel like I've neglecting this blog for too long, even if yesterday was the first day I didn't write all month..Truth is, I'm getting really annoyed about all this SPAM and don't know how to deal with it. Why don't I know of other blogs with spam like mine? Who the F*CK is Lake Powell and how can I get him to stop spamming my site?

Lake Powell is a cockroach. Help me rid myself of people like him...Oh, and yes, I'm looking for suggestions....I know, I've given him too much time...

So, other than that...hmm..let's see..I've got to get my ass in gear with this video. We're shooting in two weeks. Monday's are always hard because I work all day selling sex toys, and by the time I'm done working all day selling sex toys, I don't want to be working all night.

I felt violated at work today. I am sort of stupid sometimes and I let a customer talk to me about my scoliosis, which, even if I can't spell the damn word right, I've had since I was a little kid. My mother once had a talk with me about wearing a brace, but after I declared that I would never wear a brace, she, for some reason, backed down (no pun intended).

So, anyway, this guy comes in the store, but it's more like he's looking to cum in the store, and tells me that he's a masseuse and that he can tell I have scoliosis, only he can't tell to what degree. He asks if I want to know, and there's no one else in the store so I say yes - and don't give me that red flag alert shit right now, cause I don't want to hear it - so when I bend down to touch my toes, and he starts to measure my back, I can tell that this is actually more about getting him off than figuring out where my damn curve is. So I get up and tell him I don't really give a shit about my scoliosis, and I still let him look around the store, because I like to try to see the good in everybody, or maybe because I'm a sucka..I don't know really..and then..then he asks if he can go and use a cockring in the bathroom. He insists that he won't buy one unless he knows that it works.

I tell him NO and after begging me, and seeing that it ain't going to work buddy, you already got me with your scoliosis shit, he finally leaves the store.

And I feel violated. I think I felt something else too..but I don't want to talk about it...

Ugghhh..is mercury still in retrograde?

Not so Sweet Dreams

baby's first brithday?

Two nights ago I couldn't sleep because of bad Chinese food. Well, because my stomach was feeling all full and funny because of bad Chinese food. Last night I slept, like a baby in fact, and was in bed by 10:45...how's that for Friday night fun? but this morning I couldn't go back to sleep because of another "belly" issue. Thankfully, it was all in a dream.

So, I'm having these really bizarro dreams these days. First it was the dead lady in the Wonton Soup one, and last night, last night was another hell of a doozy. It started out that I was pregnant, only I didn't know I was pregnant until I was about to give birth. That means I was partying my ass off (at times) and doing all sorts of things you aren't supposed to do when you're carrying a fetus to term. I thought about my friend H. who is really pregnant and how her lifestyle drastically changed when she knew she was carrying a bun in the oven, and how mine hadn't at all. I began to panic. Before the fetus was born, I decided that I'd probably give it up for adoption. I hadn't prepared myself for motherhood at all. My friend T. was pregnant with me (in "real" life she's not) and she had been seeing her OBGYN every week for the last few months. I had never gone to the doctor and therefore I didn't know anything about my fetus. T. and I both went into the hospital together. We were both supposed to give birth around the same time.

I went into labor first. I was really nervous and asked if they'd just cut my stomach open. I didn't want to lose elasticitiy in my vagina or have to deal with stitches. I thought of my cousin M. who had a really hard first delivery and I was afraid of the pain childbirth would cause. They told me not to worry and to continue breathing. I also thought, for sure, if this fetus came out alive, it would most probably be retarded. After all, like I said, it's not like the past nine months had been about healthy living.

So, T. is still in labor and I give birth. A rather painless birth and the small animal of a child gets out the natural way. Only, it's not a small baby once it emerges from between my legs. It's a cat. It's a cat. Holy shit, I've given birth to a cat!!! A cat that has my face, my eyes, my nose, my smile. Not literally, but like a child resembles his mother, this cat looks like me. I think back to whom I'd had sex with nine months before, and who could possibly be the father, because have I mentioned, I have no idea who the daddy is, and I know I never had sex with a cat. And I don't know who the fuck I had sex with that got me pregnant. I'm getting visibly upset. I decide that I'm going to give the cat up for adoption, that I don't want to ever be reminded that I gave birth to such a thing.

And as I get sad, I remember a pyschic once told me that she saw I'd have a son, only she wasn't sure if he would actually be my son, and I start to pray to some Goddess that this isn't what she meant. A cat?! No way! What human gives birth to a cat? For some reason my breasts aren't producing milk, and I have no stitches from childbirth so giving up this "baby" won't be as painful as it could have been.

I woke up before I gave him away. I couldn't go back to sleep. And now I've been up for a few hours and still, I'm freaked out about giving birth to a cat.

Crazy People

So, I'm "attempting" to cast for the How-To Video Shoot, and this lady Maria responded to my ad on craigslist... Here's how it went down.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
My boyfriend and I are very interested in the couples video shoot. Please email me any information I may need to know prior to the shooting. I understand this shooting involves nudity and sex.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

Maria
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My Response:

here's the deal.
this is for playgirl tv..we are filming a series of how to
videos...one on cunnilingus and one on fellatio. there will be no
other sort of penetration, but each video will have one person
performing on the other. the shoot will take place in new york city -
april 26 and 27.

compensation is 500 per day per couple. can you send pics? and contact info?
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Her response:

I'm sorry to have wasted your time but my boyfriend and I have changed our minds. we both have respect for ourselves, were both intelligent and we both agree that we do not nee to STOOP DOWN to that level just to get some extra cash. Have fun shooting those air headed macho small penis men and fake breasted anorexic/bulimic shallow bimbos with fake orgasms and wide stretch pussies with pimples and puss.

Sincerely,

Maria

What issues do you think she's got going on? My email was professional and courteous, and this one, this one is just plain sad.

The Marketing Director sent me a great response to send them. I haven't done it yet, because I come from two frames of mind, the "let it be" space and the "respond and attack" place...
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Then I was reminded of my recently favorite new customer at the sex toy store I work in. He was in his mid-fifties, and he was a lean, white man with a full beard and moustache. He came in this past Monday morning and made a beeline for the adult videos. The videos that are for sale are all tucked behind a glass case in the back of the store. Without even knowing that I had a cameo in the film, he pointed at Candida Royalle's "StudHunters" and asked me the price.

The price is on the box and I always get annoyed when someone asks without looking. Still I responded - $35.95. He got visibly upset. "Why is it so expensive?" he asked. I pointed him to some less expensive alternatives. Some older porn that was priced at $15. After looking displeased for less than 30 seconds, he went back to the glass where Studhunters lay and pointed at the box. "NO! I want that one," he exclaimed. "How much is it with tax?"

I guesstimated about $40. This was not good enough for him. He needed to know the EXACT price. As I headed back to the counter I mumbled under my breathe, "could you be a little nicer?" making sure he didn't hear me. He definitely didn't.

The price came to $39.05 with tax. He told me he'd be back in ten minutes, that he just lived down the block. He was more than a bit strange. Seemingly on edge, he asked me to place the video on hold for him, and as he headed out the door I noticed that he did a double take when he saw a police officer outside. The officer had been there all day, watching over the filming of some Mike Meyers movie, and this obviously disturbed my newest friend.

I am so glad I pulled the video from behind the glass because what happened next makes me believe if I didn't, there would have been hell to pay. He arrived back in the store promptly ten minutes later. Still dressed in all white, I now realize he smelled fairly badly. But that has nothing to do with the story. So, he unrolls this plastic bag which is the home of his money, or what I guess he'd call his "wallet", and takes out a white envelope. He then proceeds to count out forty crisp one dollar bills.

As he's counting them out, I notice a dime on the counter. "Just give me $39," I tell him. "I can use this dime so you can save the dollar." He looks at me puzzled as if I've just asked him to murder his first born. I repeat what I've just told him, thinking that if he was so upset about the price of the porn, this was as nice a gesture as any. He apparently didn't agree.

And, in the series of most bizarre responses I've ever received, sort of like that email this morning...he started to scream, "NO! THAT WOULD MEAN I DIDN'T PAY FOR THE WHOLE THING!"

So I handed him back his 95 cents and told him to have a great day.

Yes, I know..strange but true. I don't think I could have made that one up if I tried.

For the Record

First off...I was not being all "wah wah" yesterday. Sorry for being so stressed and for deciding to take it out on my blog, it's just that this is MY THERAPY. I don't go to a shrink, although I know that I probably should, and I use this outlet as MY OUTLET...and that's all I'm going to say on the matter. Sometimes I'm happy and sometimes I'm not...just know that I know about my life and I am not seeking charity or pats on the back.

Okay.

I've got a lot of business to get out..I mean real business. First of all, if you live in New York and have always been dreaming of making an adult video, have I got great news for you! I'm looking for heterosexual couples to star in my first two Playgirl TV "How To Videos." We're going to be taping in New York on Tuesday, April 26th and Wednesday, April 27th...Times TBD..but if you and your lover, friend, flova, husband, wife, mistress, whomever, want to get down and show us your oral sex skills, or lack thereof..it's a chance to be a star and make a little extra bling bling. SERIOUS INQUIRIES ONLY: jamyew@gmail.com

One of the "producers" - for lack of a better term to call him, as I'm not sure of his "title," asked me if I planned on getting down in the videos. I don't think I'll suck cock, not because I can't, but because I want to maintain an air of professional education in my approach, but I'm not opposed to gloving it up and helping a woman find her G Spot. What do you think? Should I be doing anything (besides teaching) in these videos? I mean, should I be getting hands on at all?

Next..can anyone tell me how to stop getting spam on my website. I think my spamming situation is ridiculous and I don't know how to rectify the situation. I also think I just wanted to use the term rectify in my blog entry today, but yes, I'm serious about this spam bullshit. The man who hosts my server is getting shnasty emails that my site is taking up too much bandwidth. Does anyone know about web servers? I think the spam is putting me over the top, although I'd still like to think that I just have a lot of people who care enough about some Jewish girl from Long Island's life to come back and visit me every day. Hmm..maybe I'm right and it's not this spam...still....Help me! Help me! I need server help.

Third. It would be nice if FOR ONCE my friends came out and really supported me as I taught my first class at the Museum of Sex. It's on Wednesday, April 20th and Playgirl TV should be there to film it. Don't you want to come? I don't mean literally. It's not expensive, $10, and it's for a good cause...ME...dammit...7PM...The class is called the Sexth Sense - How to Incorporate Your Five Senses into Sex Play

And lastly, uhm...I don't know what I was going to say. Shit. I forgot. Uhm, yeah, lastly...just uhmm...I don't know...enjoy your day?

Just one of those days

I'm not even sure who I am anymore. I mean I'm sure I know myself, at least a little, but when I think of all the things I'm setting out to do, I'm not sure how to get them done, and I'm seeing if I can possibly make the longest sentence in the world, which, by the way, does anyone know how long that would have to be, and I'm really stressing out in this "it's time to breathe" sort of way. Okay, somehow I don't think that's the longest sentence possible, so I will have to try again some other time.

I've been writing, living, dealing with sex (and getting paid for it) for the last four plus years. It's been an interesting journey, one that started out with a lot of shock and awe, and eventually when the initial coolness wore off, one that has become a deep and personal self exploration. I've gone through a lot of phases over the past four years. Phases like the whore, the academic, the other woman, the girlfriend, the bitch, the prude, the voyeur, the writer, the "expert," the lover, the one night stand, and the pornographer. And while at one time or another I may have been able to easily label myself as one or another, I feel like I'm in the middle of a number of these and then some.

See, this spirituality thing is biting at my back. Nibbling away at who I am and what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm trying to remember to breathe more, even if, in a drunken bout of stupidity I once told someone to stop breathing. That in and of itself is apparently a form of torture. I've never been a dom, although I'm not opposed to going there. But I'm digressing.

I can't shake the spirit out of sex. It's eating away at me, even today, as I sit in the corporate offices of Playgirl TV, finishing up my script for the second "how to video" I am supposed to write and star in, as the "expert" not as the "performer," a place I've only dabbled once, but that's not for now. I'm writing away about the best ways to eat pussy... Hint: start out slow with long licks and build up to more and act as if you really want to be there and all I want to do is look up how Native Americans incorporated sexuality with the spirit.

I feel like I'm being torn in many directions. And sometimes I'm afraid I'll rip at the seams. Like a raggedy ann doll. And if my stuffing comes out, how will I make sure I've picked it all back up?

When you write everyday you're bound to have emotional breakdowns. This is how I'm getting through mine today. I've just had a disappointing lunch. I spent at least ten minutes walking around deciding what I wanted and now I know I've decided wrong.

It's time to breath and write some more. And figure out some of this shit.

Oh, and if anyone knows of a good web server or person who makes websites..I'm in desperate need...

My Biggest Fear

Silly cat says: "Everybody's afraid of something"

I don't normally print my Steppin' Out columns in my blog..but this weeks is all about what happened and because I have to be at work in an hour, I figured it would be easiest to reveal my biggest fear, the way I reveal it in my "Hot Wax" column...This won't come out on the web or in the magazine 'til Thursday so it's like a sneak peak sort of thing.

Although since writing this I realize I have one other really big fear. But I'm not ready to share that one just yet. So..here's the story:
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“What’s your biggest fear?” He’s been asking me this question for the last two months. “You have to fear something above everything else.” Only, I can’t come up with an answer, at least not at first. After all, he’s my flova, not my shrink. Okay, that’s not why I don’t answer; the truth is I don’t answer because I don’t know what I would call MY BIGGEST FEAR. Even if I’ve never understood the concept of death, and if I’d spent nights as a child thinking about never coming back –about forever and ever and ever, I still don’t think I know my biggest fear.

This weekend he brings it up again. “Have you thought about your biggest fear?” I stop and stare at the boy whose presence has changed my life forever, and because of him I begin to understand. All of a sudden I know the answer.

My biggest fear is the end.

The end of everything. The end of relationships, of the world, of me.

We’ve hit the nail on the head.

So now I’ve just told my flova that I fear the end of relationships, and he understands that this means our relationship as well. And although we’ve gotten along swimmingly so far, and we have no reason to think about the end right now, he knows that I constantly do. “You need to stop being afraid of these ends,” he tells me. “Because if you don’t stop, you’ll accelerate what’s inevitable.”

Is he referring only to our relationship, or maybe life in general?

Then we joke about testing our ends. Only we don’t realize we’re not joking.

We get to the “horned ball” before most other people arrive. We stay in a corner, and as the party picks up, we move to the back of the bar. There we see her, his ex, the last girl he dated, the girl who just months before, while we were dating, propositioned him for one more night of sex, and my mood changes.

She sees us -- I cringe, and this doesn’t seem to bother her at all. She walks over, he re-introduces us, and my beach ball version of life immediately deflates. And as the ball loses air, I figure this signifies something much larger. I realize things like his life with her had to end before ours could ever begin, and life is a circle of beginnings and ends. Still, he’s never been able to validate me in front of her, and now, tonight I’m testing how far he’ll go.

I leave the conversation and time passes as they continue to talk. Eventually I end their conversation by acting like Amanda Wakefield did in The Glass Menagerie when she realizes the gentlemen caller is not coming back. I show a complete loss of faith and logic, and I realize I’m intentionally trying to destroy this relationship. In layperson’s terms – I freak out.

Is this the end?

We both become conscious of the fact that I’m trying to end this relationship before its time so I can avoid dealing with the attachment and emotion that come along with fostering what we’ve got. In fact, that’s what I do to every relationship I’ve had these past six years.

And after hours of conversation, and the knowledge of my destructive behavior, I’m working towards enjoying him now. If my biggest fear is the end, I have to accept that it’s going to eventually come. After all, it’s only when you let go of fear and how things will end that they can ever really begin.

Biggest Fears - Still Building

I used to be afraid of the hulk and bald men. Seriously.

I'm going to wait one more day to reveal my biggest fear...it's not going to seem so surprising after today anyway..but in attempting to lure you in to contributing more of your biggest fears, I've decided the suspense must build. Although, the more I think about it, I actually doubt there's really any suspense, because most people do have lives and don't really care what my biggest fear is, but still, because I like to do things in threes, it'll have to wait til tomorrow.

So - here's a list of some of my other fears. Only none of these are "exactly" my biggest one.

1. Cockroaches crawling across my naked body as I sleep.

2. Losing all sensation.

3. A passioneless life.

4. The boogieman under my bed who only comes out once the lights are off.

5. The skeletons in my closet.

6. Getting lost in the middle of nowhere.

7. Losing track of time for the next 25 years.

8. Disease.

9. Death. Or more importantly, dieing a painful, slow death.

10. Being alone forever.

11. The dust settling.

12. Never being loved.

13. Being declared clinically insane.

14. Gunshots and other loud explosions.

15. Hurting the people close to me.

16. Being unattractive.

17. Breaking things I can't fix.

18. Plane crashes.

19. Neverending hiccups.

20. Not being able to swallow...and I don't mean in an oral sex kind of way...

21. Subway bombings.

22. Rejection.

Biggest Fear - The Buildup

Me. Smiling. In the face of fear.

"What's your biggest fear?" It's a question I've been asked on numerous occasions by the same individual over the course of the last few months. "What's your biggest fear?" he constantly, but not in a nagging way, continues to prod.

At first I don't answer the question, not because I don't want to, although it's really quite scary to sit and think about what it is that freaks you out most in this entire world, but I don't answer because I'm not feeling an answer. Is it just one thing, is more of my question. What did my biggest fear look like?

After last night I'm sure I know what mine is, but I'm too tired to write, so I'm going to play it off like it's a game of "show me yours and I'll show you mine."

So, what's your biggest fear?

Overtouching

having your cake and eating it too...

OVERTOUCHING
I don't think it's a real word, but the other night, when my flova (friend and lova') was trying to talk to me, I couldn't stop fondling his not-so meaty legs. "I feel overtouched!" he said, as he pulled my hands off his body. "I just want to talk for a few minutes. Can't we just talk?" I felt insulted...I mean, after all, how could he resist my womanly charms?

He immediately apologized because he didn't mean to hurt my feelings. If you knew him you'd know that even if he says something that sounds as if it could be mean, it really isn't meant to be that way. "It's not that I don't like you touching me," he added, "only sometimes I need space."

It's hard not to feel like a disease infested animal when someone tells you to basically "back off bitch," but I tried to get over it. Actually, I think I passed out, because I was really tired anyway. But, as my father often does, the next morning I was back to harping on the topic.

"I don't want to make you feel overtouched," I began, more because I actually think I do like the newest word in my vocabulary then because I thought he still felt that way. He apologized again, not that he had to, because I knew that as soon as he had said it, he didn't really mean it.

And in the morning we touched. Even though he backed away when I squeezed his nipple while he was making breakfast...did I mention he always makes breakfast, which, just in case you're trying to impress your flova, is a very good thing...but the truth is he's not trying to impress me, he's just hungry...okay, back to overtouching.. - But he said that was because it's not easy to make eggs while you are getting your nipple poked and prodded. I can agree with that, but now I think the phrase "overtouching" has made me even more touchy feely.

I don't remember being overtouched as a child. My parents are much more affectionate now than I remember them being as we grew up. Maybe I'm wrong on that, I mean my mother does think I have a warped memory of my childhood, but the only person I remember being consistently affectionate was my Aunt A. Accept for the time at the Tracy Chapman concert when she didn't want me to touch her for "fear" that an aunt and neice might be perceived as a lesbian couple, she was always hugging and loving me. She made me want to touch..and now I can't stop.

It might be a problem...this overtouching...although I only do it to the people I really, really like. Okay, wait, that might not be true, I'll have to think on that one for a while..

Still, is it better to overtouch, or never to be touched at all?

We all crave skin hunger. How often should we satisfy our cravings?

An April Fool

I swear, even if it's April Fools Day, I did NOT alter this picture. Hint: Check out the don't walk sign. You can click on the pic...

Okay so in my rantings yesterday on states that accept money from the government to preach abstinence only education, seems I got a fact or two wrong -- kind of like the reporter from the Washington Mews, who got a lot more of the facts not straight. Anyway..here's an email I got from my "Dr." friend who happens to be super smart and super well-researched on these sorts of things:

hey jamye-

great blog yesterday! i like the pic too. * of course I had to leave that part in --- as you should know by now, flattery will get you everywhere...wanted to let you know that the sex ed info on CA is not quite right- they don't accept Title V funding (neither does PA) but accept other types of federal funding that have strict abstinence only definitions. check this out.

As per Dr. B's request I did check "this" out, and it turns out, I wasn't completely off, which, in my opinion is better than being so far off that I would have deleted said information from yesterday's posting.

So, now onto the question of the day. How did "April Fools Day" originate? I feel like I once knew the answer, but now I don't remember. Or maybe I only knew the answer in a dream. Speaking of dreams, I had another strange one last night..one about stars being shot down to Earth, because New York City, or maybe the planet, was attacking the sky. I'm trying really hard to remember my dreams because I feel like there's some revelance to them that will be revealed at a later date.

Or maybe it's because life is but a dream.

I can't think of any good pranks to play today. Can you?