sounds painful, no?

I haven’t been this crampy in ages. I’m talking supreme crampiness, the kind that keeps you up from 3:11am until 4:23am wondering how to get the pain to stop. That kind of crampy, but I feel better now.

I started a new blog. That’s all I’m gonna say because I want to keep it more underground so I can write things there that I can’t write here. Not that much is different, except I can say more things there. I feel a bit more liberated in being able to discuss my life. I just wanted to share so that you can now be impressed that I am upkeeping two daily, or almost daily blogs. If you need to know more about the other one - drop me a line and maybe, just maybe, I’ll pass along some more info.

Today is overcast and crappy and I am contemplating attending a bbq that is supposed to be on a roof. If it’s rainy and cold is it still on the roof? And if not, isn’t it going to get crampy in someone’s apt.? Plus, I know I should be extroverted, but I’m just in one of those antisocial moods, the kind when you know you’re supposed to go out and be social, but all you want to do is stay home and be quiet. I hate that my antisocial behavior is happening at the height of other people’s socialness, but my timing has always been known to be a little off.

So, I’m going to crawl into bed and watch Comedy Central. Between that and Adult Swim on Cartoon Network, I can be social in my own way. Okay, it’s still not social, but it makes me feel better.

John and Pauline

JOHN KERRY IS THE BETTER OPTION (Not than Pauline but than GW Bush). I’m just going to keep reminding you this on a continuous basis so that you remember to register to vote, and then vote this November. Try to register where you live, because - correct me if I’m wrong here - but absentee ballots only count if there is a tie. And yes, if you can’t make it back from where you live to vote - like Israel let’s say, at least send in the absentee ballot.

My next course of action is to make up a number of shirts that say Vote Kerry and wear them tight, right on my tits, just to make sure this issue gets more notice. I am so afraid that nobody is going to vote because they think everybody else will vote, when we saw last election how every vote counted, even if the man with the most votes wasn’t elected president. I mean, at least they counted every vote - right?

HO Ho ho…

Pick up this month’s issue of Jane Magazine - the one with actress Drew Barrymore, not porn star Dru Berrymore, on the cover - the one where she’s wearing a shirt about voting. Yes, it’s the same issue that on page 101 has a story about a friend of mine - it’s the “It Happened to Me” column and it’s titled “My Boyfriend Used to Be My Girlfriend.” I know Nick well. This piece is cheesed down for reasons that are easy to explain, like it’s Jane Magazine people! But read the piece anyway.

I did love Jane Pratt when she started Sassy Magazine, the best magazine out there for a girl my age at the time I was a girl my age. Jane doesn’t have the same bite, but it’s not a bad magazine at all. You actually might enjoy a couple of articles in their, but skip over the one about the six types of unconventional men to date - which includes the homeless and the amish. Seriously unfunny shit.

And one more thing. This is some sex toy advice, so if you are a family member - and you don’t want or need, for that matter, to know these minute details about me- DON’T read any further.

I have newfound appreciation for dual action vibes. If you want to know more, just ask me, but I think for all those ladies (and men) who have been using other vibes and experimenting with battery operated toys for a while now - you must try this next. I am converted. It depends what you like, but take my word for it - dual action vibes ARE very damn good..but you have to get one where the shaft twists or rotates, because the rotation and vibration are both really important. I promise, these things are magical.

Well..I, uhm, have…yeah, some, uh… other things to do..yeah, other things, right now…so, uh, bye…yeah, gotta be going, like, right NOW…

Meet Afro Ken…

Because it’s almost 12:00 and I’ve been writing every day.

Okay, that’s enough writing for tonight.
Well, not really, but it will have to suffice..
I want you to miss me a little
a teeny, tiny, fraction of how much you can miss somebody.
that’s how much I want you to miss me now.

oh, and how cute is afro ken?

Yesterday I was at the diner having lunch at a booth in the back. I think that’s my favorite part about diners, aside from the fact that I can get an omelette with lettuce tomato and russian dressing on the side, which for some reason I am obsessed with eating right now, my favorite part is that they have these plush booths to enhance your dining experience. Anyway, at the booth in front of us sat four people, 2 men and 2 women, and they were enjoying idle chatter. In the midst of all their babble, I distinctly heard them utter the phrase Toys in Babeland. a place that I am deeply emotionally vested in; and my ears went batty.

This is what I heard - it was a conversation between the 2 girls, who, for purposes of this piece are named 1 and 2 - aren’t I clever?

1: “My favorite place to eavesdrop on a conversation* is Toys in Babeland. They have the best conversations, like when you hear them talking about how to find the G-Spot or how to play with your vibrator.”
2: “Plus they are all so good looking. Yeah, the employees there are definitely hot.”

*Apparently my favorite place to eavesdrop on a conversation is in a diner.

I wanted to run up and hug them and thank them and kiss them and rub them…okay, no I didn’t want to rub them, I just got carried away there…

But I felt damn sexy for that one minute..and they didn’t even know I was there.

Just a reminder, you never know who could be lurking in the shadows..

This is Abby. Today is her birthday.

I will post more later today..but
I am performing tonight..and I have now decided to let you know the details.

I go on at 8:40 PM
at Arlenes Grocery on Stanton between Ludlow and Orchard…
I am on for 10 minutes.
Reading a monologue.
It’s $7 to get in…but it’s my friend Abby’s birthday, which should be fun and interesting..There are lots of more seasoned performers there as well.
When I post later, I will get you the list.

Maybe I’ll see you later..Maybe not…I think I’m going to wear my wig!!!

Me and My Pussy…

So two nights ago, I was staying with some friends in Warrington, PA - a small town near Doylestown which is another small town, near some other small towns, not too far from Philly - with my friends “The Halls” - one of whom happens to be named Annie - no, really…

Anyway, I get out of class at 7PM and I finish up what I need to do, and arrive at their front steps at 10:04 in the evening. When I get to their house, all the lights are off. Funny, I think, I know they’re expecting me. I knock - no answer. I ring the doorbell, and it’s loud but still nothing. I walk away and check out the house, thinking “shit, I just rang some neighbor’s door and they were sleeping and they’re gonna be pissed.” But not a stir.

So I do what any country bumpkin would do, I turn the front door knob– and it opens. The house is quiet and dark, but when I peak inside, I know it’s definitely the right house because I see their wedding pictures on the wall. I walk upstairs and I hear the TV on in their bedroom. “Hey guys, I’m here,” I say, I think I said it pretty loud to as to not disturb anything. I can hear them talking and then they shut up and I hear the gentle lull of the TV. Since they stopped talking just as I declared my arrival, I figure they’ll be out any second…but - not a peep. Nobody leaves the bedroom, nobody comes out to say hello, nobody does nothin’. I haven’t seen these people in almost a year - don’t they miss me?!

I go into my bedroom. I know it’s mine because I’ve slept here before. I call a friend because I’m a little freaked out. I mean I told them I could be there anytime after 8PM and now it is 10PM, so maybe they’re just pissed at me, giving me the silent treatment. I don’t know.

My friend agrees that somethings not kosher, so I tell him where I’m staying just in case they have to come looking for a body..and yes, I am a drama queen. And then my phone vibrates and it’s D. Hall - the guy whose house I’m in.

Dave: “Are you still coming tonight Jamye?”
Jamye: “I’m in your house!”
D: “No shit. Really?”
J: “Really.”

Apparently I freaked him and his wife out, almost as much as they freaked me out when I first got there. The fan in their bedroom is really loud, and even there over-anxious dog didn’t make a sound when I came up the steps. They swear they didn’t hear me at all, which is scary because I could have been anybody. And it was only after they called me that they knew I was there.

It really was scary. I was waiting for Freddy Krueger to come upstairs and tell me to say goodbye to my life. In fact, for a moment I thought I was dead and had entered the house as a ghost. I jumped in front of the mirror to check out my own reflection just to be sure. And those seconds before I saw myself looking back from the glass were some of the most anxiety producing seconds of my life.

Because there’s nothing worse than thinking you’re dead but walking around not really sure how you died. Well, almost nothing…

I had to post today.
It’s late and I’m on a dial up so I don’t want to deal with the sllllooooowwwnnnneessssssssss i am experiencing right now.

these are pics from that fashion show i modeled in at the coral room on wed. night.

and here’s some useless party information for y’all:
i heard (on some really bad show on MSNBC tonight) that there are approximately 4 million bloggers on the Internet today, and 2.5 million of them are from the United States.

how many of those 4 million blogs have you read?

I feel tiny…I hate dial up…

I started to write this piece about masturbation because I’m supposed to perform at my friend Abby’s bday party this Thursday and I realized that when we talk about masturbation we use a lot of animal terms in our descriptives. For example:
Choking the Chicken
Petting the Kitty
Stroking your cock (a doodle doo)
Wanking your willy (as in Free Willy - a whale)
Charming the snake

Just thought I’d point this out…
And then, why do we always describe pussy - love the word with me please - as either smelling like fish or flowers?

What do penises smell like? Sometimes too much aftershave, yes, I really do believe guys put perfume on their balls more often than they should, or maybe like socks that got caught in a rainstorm and were hung out to dry - without ever being cleaned first! Maybe we don’t describe dick as much as pussy because for some reason, as a society, we can justify pussy with one word responses. Fish. Flowers. You know what I mean. Maybe men are just more complex. Not really. I’m being, how do you spell fuh-see-cious…Where are those kids from that Spellbound documentary when you need them?!

ANOTHER PLACE ENTIRELY
a.k.a. non-sequitor. I read a fascinating article in Bust Magazine. It was all about Martha Stewart, and HOW FUCKED UP IT IS THAT SHE IS GOING TO JAIL WHEN THERE ARE MUCH BIGGER MALE CRIMINALS WALKING THE STREETS. Do you see what I’m saying? Regardless of what you think of her - Antichrist or No Antichrist - this woman DID NOT get a fair trial. NOT FAIR AT ALL. Powerful women scare big, important men. Read my lips: Salem Witch Hunt. Read the article and you decide…but really, READ THE ARTICLE.

I took this from this guy’s site.

Jeff and I have this ongoing this debate, okay not really ongoing, we talked about this once, but it’s been never-ending in my head so as far as I’m concerned it’s still going, and it’s all about square dancing.

I love square dancing while Jeff hates it. I wish there was a place I could go square dancing in New York. In fact if anyone knows of such a place, please let me know because I seriously love and yes, want to marry, square dancing. Square dancing was the only time I ever looked forward to gym class even if the stress of finding a partner took more out of me than most of the other girls. Actually it wasn’t the gym square dancing that was draining, it was the big Square Dance we had at school one Friday night in fifth grade. There was a lot of drama surrounding my square dance partner.

I had asked Marc Finklestein who had originally said “yes” and then he backed out on me to go with a prettier, more popular girl named Barbara Friedman. I had a crush on Gregg Schlossman and when Marc dumped me, I wanted Gregg to be my partner. However, Gregg was already going to the Sqaure Dance with Deborah Gur-Arie, one of my best friends. So Gregg and I settled on being corner partners and two days before the big day, I asked David Rackouer. Which was fine, although my ego had been trampled on (Thanks Marc) and I had to watch the boy I would love for four years square dance with my best friend at the time.

Anyway - square dancing makes me happy.
And Jeff’s argument - “The opposite of fun is square dancing.”

That’s it - squashed - square dancing - just like that. I wouldn’t have gotten through gym without square dancing, even though I barely got through gym with it (I even got a C one semester!). So, I think Jeff’s wrong, and he needs a good do-si-do…

Of course I am always open to suggestions…

We all have more than one personality when you really think about it.

The “Other” Woman…

I changed the hair, got some makeup done, and became someone who is still a part of me, only different. It was actually more fun than I thought it would be, it was better than gremlins better than E.T. (I still confuse then and than) - and honestly I didn’t want to take the hair off. And the great thing is, I don’t have to – cause I own it, which means I can wear my hair anytime, anywhere.

So if I show up to your place looking like this, instead of the way you’re accustomed to seeing me, don’t be alarmed. It’s still me, only I look wild. Well, maybe it’s not just look…

Oh, and this just in…
———————————————————————————————
BERLIN (Reuters) - Women watching erotic films are stimulated in a part of the brain associated with planning and emotion, research from scientists in Germany said Friday.

“We don’t know why these differences between men and women exist. They just do,” said institute director Michael Forsting.
———————————————————————————————
Gee! Women thinking more then men…is this really news? I don’t know about you, but I’m not quite sure of the importance of releasing this information. I guess I’m using my frontal lobes too much…Do I even have more than one?