Saturday, February 28, 2004

So I went to go see this play "Mama Don't Hurt Me So Bad". And I had my suspicions before I even went. But nothing had prepared me for the actual event...

Oh. My. God. It was horrible. It was really, really terrible. It was...stupendously, magnificently awful. It was like watching a slow-motion train wreck. For three hours. It was, hands-down, the worst live performance I have ever seen.

It wasn't the actors. They actually had some decent performers, although they were clearly under-rehearsed. But the script - if you can call it that - was terrible: hackneyed and repetitive lines, a glacially slow pace, and confusingly random and disjointed action. I mean, the different acts seemed to only have the slightest hints of a connection to the others. There was no director listed on the program, so perhaps they didn't have one, which would explain a lot.

Plus, although the play is subtitled "an S&M Fantasy", it had nothing whatsoever to do with SM! The website claims it takes place "in a dungeon." It doesn't! There are two brief bits where one character hits another one a few times with a riding crop. That's it. That's the entire part that SM plays in this production.

Unbelievably bad. Horrible. So bad I'm thinking of standing outside the theatre tomorrow night and warning people, "Don't go! Save yourselves!" I'm also thinking of writing a column about it, even though I might feel a little bad about panning the show...But geeze, it's the truth. And I also hate seeing people exploit poor defenseless SM. Shows like this give us kinky artists a bad name.

Friday, February 27, 2004

Got a note back this morning from the image thief saying: gee, she didn't know who the photographer was, so she had no way of getting permission to use it. The implication being that she wasn't at fault, but that the photographer had somehow failed in HIS responsibility. Amazing. I know that Tommy has sent her an email, so I hope he tears her a new one. Or sends her a bill.

On a more pleasant note, Jae and I are going to go see a play that's (supposedly) about BDSM tonight, called "Mama Don't Hurt Me So Bad". I admit I have reservations. One sees so few accurate representations of BDSM in popular culture.
But it'll be fun to hang with Jae. She might also have either a) her current male part-time lover or b) her current female sometimes-lover come along too. One never knows with Jae, which is, I suppose, part of her charm.
I'm pissed off tonight, because I found a website with stolen pictures of me on it...It's certainly not the first time, and I'm sure it won't be the last. I've done a fair amount of erotic/nude modeling and some of those pictures are on the web - either on my sites, or on the sites of the photographer. That's where they belong. But these lame-ass, no-account, shit-for-brains wanna-bees see my pictures, think they're cool, and STEAL them to use on their own little rinky-dink site!

I know, I know: I should take it as a compliment, it's not really hurting anything...yeah yeah, I've heard all that, and I'm not buying it. Image thieves really, really piss me off. Models and photographers invest time, money, and energy in producing a good image, and then some little twerp thinks all they have is right-click and it belongs to them?

Oh, and here's a topper: this particular chick is using a picture of me in such a way that it suggests it's a picture of HER. In her dreams. Grrr...

I wrote her a email, which I have had no response to, and dropped a note to the photographer, the uber-fabu Tommy Edwards, and he's all over it. So we'll see what happens...Fucking stealing!

My thanks to Jae for pointing out the thief to me....and then, afterwards, for coming over, bringing me strawberries, and giving me a really wonderful massage. I'm sure it lowered my blood pressure significantly. You rock, Bobcat.

Tuesday, February 24, 2004

What a desperate, pathetic, and malicious bunch of crap...

President Bush supports a constitutional amendment banning same-sex marriage.
God, I have a column to write, I have a million clients to see, I have a fucking video-interview for this reality TV show that wants me (and I just know they aren't going to offer me enough money, damn it), I have workshops to plan, the house looks like a bomb went off, and I still have a sore throat from breathing in smoke at Club Medusa Saturday night. Pity me, the frazzled Mistress.