…are reporting a number of things of interest to me..Okay, not ALL the columns, actually these two bits of information on other people come from today’s Rush and Molloy column in the NY Daily News.

First: This one is all about me..okay, not about me at all, but about that show I went to Dallas to tape.

JASON PRIESTLEY’s sexy sister, Justine, really got into her work last week in Arlington, Tex., where she served as a judge at the Gentlemen’s Club Championships - a sort of “American Idol” contest for strippers. One girl after another gave Justine lingering lap dances, and she didn’t seem to object. “It was out of control,” says fellow judge Chaunce Hayden. “I think Jason is going to crawl under his bed when he sees it.” The Championships, created by Bob Meyrowitz, air on In Demand at the end of May…

Second: - This one has nothing to do with me…

Larry to be muy Linda?
Better stop calling them the Wachowski brothers. We hear “Matrix” co-creator Larry Wachowski is ready for the sex-change operation that will finalize his conversion to a woman named Linda.
Last May, he wore women’s earrings at “The Matrix Reloaded” premiere. At the time, the estranged husband of an alleged Los Angeles dominatrix told newspapers that Wachowski was a client of his wife. The source said he had seen Larry “in her bondage room…lying there in a dress, no panties and a blond wig.”
Several “longtime friends” say Larry - who is in the middle of a divorce with his wife, Thea Bloom - is now ready for the operation, reports the Chicago Sun Times.
The agent for Larry and his brother and collaborator, Andy Wachowski, did not return calls yesterday

This is the first time a celebrity is actually going through some public form of gender dysphoria with the end result of surgery (at least as far back as I can remember). There are differences between transvestites, like Eddie Izzard, and transsexuals or transgendered persons. Transvestites are primarily heterosexual men who like to dress in women’s clothing for an erotic thrill. Transgendered men and women don’t want to act like a different gender, they never identify with the gender they were assigned to at birth.

In order to go through an operation, one that would change your body from FTM (female to male) or MTF (male to female) you have to do a lot of psychological work, including living in the body that you want for about two years. Within that time you can start taking hormones and transitioning, but the final surgery happens way down the road. The MTF surgery generally looks better and is easier to perform. There’s a saying I’ve heard regarding this, and that is. “it’s easier to dig a hole than build a pole.” I’m no expert on transgendered issues, but I am excited to see how Linda handles this media. Hopefully she will help educate and not ignore the questions that are bound to be posed as a result of Larry’s celebrity.

I love juicy fruit gum better than I like juicy celebrity gossip. However, this I had to share…

I am trying to figure out what this means because tomorrow is apparently the day Mercury stops retrograding. Supposedly when Mercury is going backwards, our thoughts and creative processes are disrupted. And there’s lots of miscommunication during this time. Tomorrow things start to change. Does anyone know anything about this?

Regardless, I’m using it as my excuse for the past few weeks.

Oh, and I don’t actually support J.Lo, someone gave this shirt to me, and it’s comfortable. Although J.Lo gives me some support. Okay, not really, a bra would have helped.

After seeing this sign, remind me, if I haven’t ever gone into the differences between comprehensive sexuality education and abstinence only education, and the scary statistics about what we teach in this country…I will…but for now…

I meant to get this up yesterday..The march was intense. I am so glad I was there, although I was too busy walking to hear anyone speak. But I put up pictures in the photo gallery, in case you want to view some of what I saw. I had never been to a march before, although I don’t know if that’s something I really want to admit, because I want to be active, and I want to be an activist. I want to make a difference in that respect.

I will do it again though. But first, this week, I am moving once again. For the next two months I will be effectively homeless, which could shatter my chances of a dating life. How can I date when I have no place to bring someone home to? Whatever. As of right now, I am officially couch surfing. Which is why my writing may get more sporadic. I hope not though. Because I feel out of touch when I don’t stay in touch.

Head still spinning…

…I know it’s a class at some of the nicer gyms, but it is also what my head is doing. You know when you have so much you want to do, but never enough time to do it? I thrive on having a packed plate. I work best under pressure.

Which is why even though I will bitch and moan that I have so much to do, I need to keep busy. When I sit around, I bite my nails, and if you haven’t seen my fingers lately, let’s just say it’s not a pretty sight.

So it’s best I keep busy.

Speaking of which, I am super-excited for Sunday. If you can make it to Washington D.C. I sincerely hope you do. It’s the March for Women’s Lives. I want this to be remembered like Woodstock was. Only this is more about women’s freedom than music; and we’re marching and drinking water not sitting down and getting stoned. What I’m trying to say is this is some very important shit y’all. (I had to use a curse word in a Texas twang sort of way, sorry it was an urge I got).

Speaking of urges, sometimes I get the urge to bite a friend or random stranger for no reason. If I’m at a party and we’re talking, I may ask if I can bite your arm. I’ve had all my shots within the last 30 years, so don’t be alarmed. And you can always say no, but I may get insulted.

Back to exciting things. I am working on my monologue for this Ladies First event. I know I mentioned it last time I wrote, but I’m really excited and nervous for it. It’s at PS 122, where artists like Karen Finley and Eric Bogosian perform!!!

And tonight I get to sell sex toys with incredible human beings. How lucky am I?!

what you’re supposed to do on a blog.

The East River. What the fuck is floating in it?

I noticed that I pontificated more than I wrote about my day-to-day experiences. So I’m going to free-flow my thoughts and basically babble. By the way, if my words don’t make sense, it’s okay; I like to make up new words all the time. It’s how I exercise my brain.

Today I ate in the cafeteria of a big company on Wall Street, or close enough to Wall St. that I can say it was “on” Wall St. It was so Heathers. I am sure there’s lots of estrogen downtown, but I inhaled an awful lot of testosterone. Here’s my observation about the financial district: if I liked corporate America enough to actually want to be a part of it, working on Wall St. would be a great place to get laid.

Speaking of getting laid, I went to some aura reader the other day, and I asked her when I was going to get some, which was apparently a question on a lot of the girls minds. *** She told me that I’d get a little “somethin’-somethin’” within the next two weeks. Which means I won’t be talking so much about wanting to get laid. Because the person who will inevitably make love to me will do a google search on Jamye Waxman and find this blog, and then they’ll know too much. Oh, and I used the phrase “make love” on purpose, because I think it’s the most disgusting way you can describe sex with someone new. Could someone please send me the recipe for “making” love? I hate the term whoopee too! If I ever do the deed with some guy who pulls one of those two phrases out on me, it’s so over. Right then and there.

***Just an aside, I didn’t pay to have my aura read, although I do pay psychics sometimes, and I probably wouldn’t have gotten my aura read if it weren’t free at this amazing party I went to compliments of my friend Alayna and the Aveda Institute.

Speaking of the here and now, I have an announcement to make. I’ll post more about it later, but this is exciting for me, I am going to be reading/performing in the WYSIWYG Talent Show and thinking how the fuck did I get here? This makes me nervous. It’s happening at PS 122 on May 18th. What if I suck?

Okay, I’m being neurotic. Shit, I curse a lot….

(long..get it?)

…for a lot of things.

I haven’t written in days, and that makes me angry because I am trying to discipline myself to write more. WRITE MORE I yell at me. Damn you Jamye, why aren’t you listening?

Okay, sorry, I’m a bit edgy. I haven’t had sex in a long time either, at least not in a long time for me. It’s been months of not only a lack of involvement, but of the complete black hole of emotionally unavailability and self-reflection.

Sex is my life in a lot of ways, but partner sex, the act, isn’t a huge part of that life. When you talk, write and read about sex all the time, it tends to make you a tad more curious, and for a lot of the people this leads to openly exploring the sexual act. While I love to surround myself with the curious, I don’t usually act like they do. I am a voyeur, in the truest sense of the word, and I love to feel the energy of watching people connect for a ravenous feast of the body.

I masturbate a lot, so it’s not like I don’t have sex, but I don’t have sex in public, like so many other people I know in this industry. Maybe my body image issues get in the way. I know I think too much. My brain is in overdrive in any ‘beyond typical’ situation, and when I play back the scene over and over in my head, I wonder how I stayed so uninvolved in a place where body parts where twisted together (I am reflecting on a party from this past week).

Some people may call me a tease, and I’m not sure I can disagree. I do tease boys and girls, because I love the act of flirting. But I’m only going to act on it if I really like you. I’m talking not only like you physically but more important, mentally. Otherwise, it isn’t worth it. Because there is such a thing as bad sex, and it’s worse than no sex at all.

Or is it?

The Hilton. Arlington, Texas. 1:36AM

…to get off my chest right now, which is why I am writing again. Hours after I left my mark, with a brief statement, which spoke volumes to my mood.

First, I had to omit the name of “my friend” from a poem for a friend, because my friend, well, I don’t know if he’s my friend anymore, has no fucking sense of humor, and I couldn’t take the ridiculous emails telling me that I was slandering his good name. I don’t consider a poem, written on the third grade level, slander, and I don’t think what I wrote should have been altered. So now my poem sucks, okay not sucks, but didn’t reach it’s full potential, and although I am not a fan of censoring, I was apparently ruining his career and his life by mentioning his first name. Get a grip!!! Some people take themselves way too seriously.

Second, I have been working my arse off in Dallas for almost no money and little recognition. While I can’t say I’m not appreciated, because I realize I am, although any idiot willing to work for a bag of Ruffles potato chips and a free ride to Dallas would be appreciated, I feel like I am doing more work than I should be doing. And I know when things go right I’ll get little to no credit, but when things go wrong it’ll all be my fault.

Third… okay, I’m not going to bitch about a third thing right now because like Meatloaf once sang, “Two out of Three ain’t bad,” and there is a rainbow at the end of this blog. I relearned a valuable lesson tonight, one that most of us learn in the first grade.

Don’t judge a book by its cover.

I can’t go into much detail because the person who told me her story, told me her story in the privacy of some Hertz rental car, but still it was private. When I met her I judged her based on what I could see, which included an extremely messed up tooth located on the left side of her mouth. Last night I learned the real story behind her exposed chomper, and it made me feel angry and sad, helpless and powerful.

It reminds me that what we see isn’t necessarily what we are.

People used to ask me all the time what I learned from working at Toys in Babeland, and my generic response went something like this; you can never tell what a customer is going to buy based on what a customer looks like. Some leather clad biker dude might be afraid of a flogger, while the CIO of a Fortune 100 is looking for the latest in butt plugaphanalia. You can never know who someone is by what they wear. And you can never tell who someone is by how bad their teeth look.

There’s a lot more I could say but I won’t, because I also realize there’s a whole lot more for me to learn.

So while some people can’t get over themselves, and while others never feel appreciated, there’s a group of people who carry on, regardless of their situation. And it’s those people who make me realize life is so much more than a set of teeth.

Enough said.

My unidentifiable “friend”- Sporting the finger.

My friend is a Belligerent Drunk
By Jamye Waxman

This guy I used to be friends with is mean when he’s drunk. He is angry and saucy, and he shouts quite a lot when he drinks.

He was one of my best friends when he was sober (which is most of the time), but when he goes out for a night of swigging, he knows how to make me pissy. He likes to try and trip me, even though I’m not a fan of falling. He likes to walk behind me so he can kick his foot under my heel as I gingerly saunter down the street. I liked him, just not when he drank.

Drinking made him ugly. Very, very ugly. Because my friend is a belligerent drunk.

Feminine Products make me feel pretty

So men who ejaculate more might live longer. We learned this the other day. Now, according to an almost two week old article, I’ve learned something about women too, although this has nothing to do with us living longer and has everything to do with how we look. Why is it always about beauty?

Apparently, when we are ovulating, we are at our most attractive. That means that when we are “fertile” - 8-14 days after our last day of bleeding, more people will want to rip off our clothes and throw us around naked. Part of this newfound beauty happens because a woman’s ears and breasts actually become more symmetrical in the days leading up to ovulation, and I guess this brings us closer to perfection, thereby elevating our level of attractiveness. All according to some study done in Prague and Newcastle - random study, random places. I think there needs to be another study, one for women who have stopped menstruating, either because of illness or menopause. When are they at their most attractive?

In another study, women prefer masculine-looking men when they are ovulating. When we’re not ovulating, we tend to prefer Mr. Softee’s, the kind of men with less pronounced chins or smaller adam’s apples. Some of the most brutal murderers were soft and feminine, but maybe that’s what made it easy for them to find people to murder. And maybe if they murdered women, it was always ovulating women. Hey, why not, it’s a plausible theory, just like the one that produced those survey results about attractive women. They have their theories, now I have mine. Women who are murdered by soft, feminine men are usually ovulating at the time of their murder. Making up stories is fun.

I’m going to keep a close watch on my ears and breasts. And soft men. I’ll keep you posted. Now you do the same.