It's looking like a moderately busy weekend around here, but nothing we can't handle. Midori is staying here at the house for a few days while she does the Seattle Erotic Art Festival. Max and I went down to the by-invitation preview last night, and there's some great work there - I highly recommend seeing the show. (Dress warmly, though, because it's a big, high-ceilinged space, and it's chilly. I was wearing a skimpy little outfit and even with my coat on, I was freezing.)
And I have a date with Roman tonight, which I'm looking forward to. We won't be at SEAF, though, as we have other plans...
Meanwhile, the new column and the Kink Calendar are up. This week in the column I answered some questions that blog readers sent in, so if you've written me, check and see if yours is there.
Speaking of questions, someone asked me about "slave training schools", and I would have answered you, but my computer ate your email. Check out this organization, I've met some of the people involved and they're reputable and well-regarded in the BDSM community.
And, just for the sheer amusement of it, it's time to play Dress Up Jesus!
Friday, April 15, 2005
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Ring Ring!
Me: hello?
Caller: Uh, yeah, hi – is this Mistress Matisse?
Me: Yes it is…
Caller: Well, I have a question about getting some professional mentoring from you.
Hmmnn, I'm not sure what to make of this. Perhaps he means he wants me to teach him some BDSM skills, which I'd be fine with doing – at my usual rate.
Me: What exactly is it you're thinking about?
Caller: You see, my girlfriend and I are professional dominants, too. My name is (******) and she's (******). And I was wondering if you'd, like, mentor us?
Me: Mentor you?
Caller: Yeah, professionally, I mean. We're, uh, having some trouble kinda getting going. I was wondering if you'd be willing to sit down with us and talk to us about what we should be doing, business-wise.
The simplest and shortest answer here would be to say, "No, I wouldn't", and hang up. But I feel compelled to be a bit more polite about it, because…my momma raised me that way. (Dammit.)
We're going to skip right over the part about him being a professional dominant, because I'm quite sure I don't want to ask. It isn't that men can't do that - I know some male pro doms. But the vast majority of their clients are, of course, other men. So either he's seeing male clients, which is fine, but it's an area of the industry that I naturally have no experience in. Or he's just doing duos with his girlfriend. Or he's sitting around twiddling his thumbs and waiting for the phone to ring with female clients who want a male pro dom. He'll have a long wait.
No, none of that is my dog. But what never ceases to amaze me is how people will call me up and say, essentially, "Hi, we're some complete strangers and we'd like to compete with you in business, will you teach us how to do that?"
Now, understand, I have no problem with other mistresses. This is not like the Highlander movies, where "there can be only one". No, it's very good thing I'm not the only one, because there are far more guys who want to see pro dommes than I can book sessions with - even if I were compatible with all of them, which I'm not. While I don't recognize the names he gave me, I'm friendly with most of the other (reputable) pro dommes in town, and most of them are great gals. So if you tell me you want to become a pro domme, then I will smile and wish you the very best of luck.
But if you want me to tell you how you should do that, then you need a whole lot more than luck, my friend - you need a sharp rap with the clue stick. It doesn't matter what business you're in, that's just not how small business works. I myself am the child of two small business owners and I learned a lot about small business strategy and psychology just by watching my parents. Some of what I leaned is: your competitor has just as much right to be in the industry as you do, and it's nothing personal, so there's no reason not to be courteous to him when you bump into each other at the coffee shop. The two of you might even like each other and get to be buddies – you'll certainly have some things in common.
But you don't give away your secrets, and you don't spend your professional time nurturing those nascent competitors. A lot of people appear to not understand this, which sort of puzzles me since it seems so obvious. But what I have come to believe is that many people are not cut out to run their own business. Even (or perhaps, especially) a sex work business.
I'd probably be less impatient with this call if I hadn't had this exact same conversation many, many times over the years, although usually with women. I don't mind swapping small bits of advice with newer ladies – the "so, how do you handle it when X happens?" kinda thing. But it's my opinion that if you just don't know how to run the business you're in, then the most merciful thing anyone can do is let you fail quickly and decisively, rather than pulling a Terri Schiavo on you. That way, you can go on to do something you've got the skills for. (It's worth mentioning that none of the successful ladies who got started as dommes after I did have ever tried this "will you tell me how to run my business?" trick with me. They didn’t need to.)
Fortunately, I have long since constructed a graceful way out of these conversations - with the added advantage of it being perfectly true.
Me: No, I'm sorry, my attorney has advised me not to do things like that.
Caller: Oh – really? Because we're just, you know, not sure if we should stay with it or quit or what. It's not been going so well. I wanna stay with it, but my girlfriend thinks she wants to quit. I was hoping you could kinda talk to her about giving it another try.
Oh, wow, that's a whole other issue. He wants me to talk his reluctant lover into continuing to work as a pro domme? No, no, no, no, nooooo. There are oh-so many quicksand pits in that conversation, I don't even want to think about it.
Me: You know, I wish you both the best of luck in whatever you decide to do, but as I said, my attorney has advised me that I should not have those kinds of conversations. So I cannot help you, sorry.
Caller: Oh. Well, if you’re sure.
Me: Thanks, goodbye.
We hang up. Maybe when I'm retired, I'll write a book. Do you think The One-Minute Pro Domme would sell?
Me: hello?
Caller: Uh, yeah, hi – is this Mistress Matisse?
Me: Yes it is…
Caller: Well, I have a question about getting some professional mentoring from you.
Hmmnn, I'm not sure what to make of this. Perhaps he means he wants me to teach him some BDSM skills, which I'd be fine with doing – at my usual rate.
Me: What exactly is it you're thinking about?
Caller: You see, my girlfriend and I are professional dominants, too. My name is (******) and she's (******). And I was wondering if you'd, like, mentor us?
Me: Mentor you?
Caller: Yeah, professionally, I mean. We're, uh, having some trouble kinda getting going. I was wondering if you'd be willing to sit down with us and talk to us about what we should be doing, business-wise.
The simplest and shortest answer here would be to say, "No, I wouldn't", and hang up. But I feel compelled to be a bit more polite about it, because…my momma raised me that way. (Dammit.)
We're going to skip right over the part about him being a professional dominant, because I'm quite sure I don't want to ask. It isn't that men can't do that - I know some male pro doms. But the vast majority of their clients are, of course, other men. So either he's seeing male clients, which is fine, but it's an area of the industry that I naturally have no experience in. Or he's just doing duos with his girlfriend. Or he's sitting around twiddling his thumbs and waiting for the phone to ring with female clients who want a male pro dom. He'll have a long wait.
No, none of that is my dog. But what never ceases to amaze me is how people will call me up and say, essentially, "Hi, we're some complete strangers and we'd like to compete with you in business, will you teach us how to do that?"
Now, understand, I have no problem with other mistresses. This is not like the Highlander movies, where "there can be only one". No, it's very good thing I'm not the only one, because there are far more guys who want to see pro dommes than I can book sessions with - even if I were compatible with all of them, which I'm not. While I don't recognize the names he gave me, I'm friendly with most of the other (reputable) pro dommes in town, and most of them are great gals. So if you tell me you want to become a pro domme, then I will smile and wish you the very best of luck.
But if you want me to tell you how you should do that, then you need a whole lot more than luck, my friend - you need a sharp rap with the clue stick. It doesn't matter what business you're in, that's just not how small business works. I myself am the child of two small business owners and I learned a lot about small business strategy and psychology just by watching my parents. Some of what I leaned is: your competitor has just as much right to be in the industry as you do, and it's nothing personal, so there's no reason not to be courteous to him when you bump into each other at the coffee shop. The two of you might even like each other and get to be buddies – you'll certainly have some things in common.
But you don't give away your secrets, and you don't spend your professional time nurturing those nascent competitors. A lot of people appear to not understand this, which sort of puzzles me since it seems so obvious. But what I have come to believe is that many people are not cut out to run their own business. Even (or perhaps, especially) a sex work business.
I'd probably be less impatient with this call if I hadn't had this exact same conversation many, many times over the years, although usually with women. I don't mind swapping small bits of advice with newer ladies – the "so, how do you handle it when X happens?" kinda thing. But it's my opinion that if you just don't know how to run the business you're in, then the most merciful thing anyone can do is let you fail quickly and decisively, rather than pulling a Terri Schiavo on you. That way, you can go on to do something you've got the skills for. (It's worth mentioning that none of the successful ladies who got started as dommes after I did have ever tried this "will you tell me how to run my business?" trick with me. They didn’t need to.)
Fortunately, I have long since constructed a graceful way out of these conversations - with the added advantage of it being perfectly true.
Me: No, I'm sorry, my attorney has advised me not to do things like that.
Caller: Oh – really? Because we're just, you know, not sure if we should stay with it or quit or what. It's not been going so well. I wanna stay with it, but my girlfriend thinks she wants to quit. I was hoping you could kinda talk to her about giving it another try.
Oh, wow, that's a whole other issue. He wants me to talk his reluctant lover into continuing to work as a pro domme? No, no, no, no, nooooo. There are oh-so many quicksand pits in that conversation, I don't even want to think about it.
Me: You know, I wish you both the best of luck in whatever you decide to do, but as I said, my attorney has advised me that I should not have those kinds of conversations. So I cannot help you, sorry.
Caller: Oh. Well, if you’re sure.
Me: Thanks, goodbye.
We hang up. Maybe when I'm retired, I'll write a book. Do you think The One-Minute Pro Domme would sell?
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Well, I was going to write something witty, and...I got busy with other things. So I decided to do a quick photo album page, prompted in part by a question someone asked me this week about how long I've been a pro domme. My long-term clients will recognize a few of these shots, although not all of these went on my professional site.
Now, without further ado: Mistress Matisse, the early years...
Now, without further ado: Mistress Matisse, the early years...
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Andrea Dworkin died on Saturday. As you may imagine, I was not a big fan of hers, in spite of Susie Bright's assertion that Ms. Dworkin was the one who started women looking at porn with an eye to remaking it for our own pleasure. But Susie is right about one thing: All those people who try to repress sexual freedom by nattering about how "porn is violence against women" - they are the political children of Andrea Dworkin. All those right-wing, sexist, fundamentalist, homophobic, sex-negative white guys. Thanks a whole bunch, Andrea.
And so in honor of Ms. Dworkin, a cool link about writing hot sex scenes. With examples, of course.
A news story that about six different people emailed to me… "Dominatrix-turned-bureaucrat says she endured harassment from her superior -- a former client". She won her case, though. I bet he was one of those "real and true submissives".
Does George Bush know he got shut out of this race? Fix! Fix! I smell voter fraud! Send in Stefan Sharkansky! I demand an investigation!
Max still has a couple of spaces left in the Rope Bondage Intensive class this weekend...
In-teresting...Is this bondage furniture or wacky art? You decide. (Via Mithras.)
Added: Okay, I usually don't do memes, but the SF Gate piece behind this is too funny. My Unitarian Jihad Name is:
And so in honor of Ms. Dworkin, a cool link about writing hot sex scenes. With examples, of course.
A news story that about six different people emailed to me… "Dominatrix-turned-bureaucrat says she endured harassment from her superior -- a former client". She won her case, though. I bet he was one of those "real and true submissives".
Does George Bush know he got shut out of this race? Fix! Fix! I smell voter fraud! Send in Stefan Sharkansky! I demand an investigation!
Max still has a couple of spaces left in the Rope Bondage Intensive class this weekend...
In-teresting...Is this bondage furniture or wacky art? You decide. (Via Mithras.)
Added: Okay, I usually don't do memes, but the SF Gate piece behind this is too funny. My Unitarian Jihad Name is:
Sister Jackhammer of Courteous Debate.
Get yours.
Monday, April 11, 2005
Notes From the Clueless...
I must be PMS lately, because people keep saying things that annoy me. (Or maybe it's just that what they're saying really is stupid. You tell me.)
In Conversation:
"I'd be fine with my girlfriend having sex with another girl, that would be cool. But another guy? No way!"
On the Phone:
Ring Ring!
"Hello?"
"Mistress Matisse?"
"Yes."
"Can you tell me how old you are?"
"Well, I could. But I'm not going to. There are photos of me on my site that accurately reflect what I look like. I don't think my precise age has anything to do with abilities as a Mistress."
"Oh. Can you tell me your bust size?"
Via Email:
Dear Mistress Matisse,
I have never done bondage before, however my boyfriend recently told me that he wants to be abused by me. How do I do this? Please answer quickly and tell me everything I need to know, we have a date tonight.
Dear Mistress Matisse,
I'd like to become a professional dominatrix, too. Will you train me?
Dear Mistress Matisse,
Do you give birthday discounts?
Hopefully someone masochistic will schedule an appointment with me this week, so I can take out my irritation on their butt. Or someone who's into serious foot worship, because that's the one thing that's absolutely, unconditionally guaranteed to put me in a happy mood.
I must be PMS lately, because people keep saying things that annoy me. (Or maybe it's just that what they're saying really is stupid. You tell me.)
In Conversation:
"I'd be fine with my girlfriend having sex with another girl, that would be cool. But another guy? No way!"
On the Phone:
Ring Ring!
"Hello?"
"Mistress Matisse?"
"Yes."
"Can you tell me how old you are?"
"Well, I could. But I'm not going to. There are photos of me on my site that accurately reflect what I look like. I don't think my precise age has anything to do with abilities as a Mistress."
"Oh. Can you tell me your bust size?"
Via Email:
Dear Mistress Matisse,
I have never done bondage before, however my boyfriend recently told me that he wants to be abused by me. How do I do this? Please answer quickly and tell me everything I need to know, we have a date tonight.
Dear Mistress Matisse,
I'd like to become a professional dominatrix, too. Will you train me?
Dear Mistress Matisse,
Do you give birthday discounts?
Hopefully someone masochistic will schedule an appointment with me this week, so I can take out my irritation on their butt. Or someone who's into serious foot worship, because that's the one thing that's absolutely, unconditionally guaranteed to put me in a happy mood.
Friday, April 08, 2005
A rather late post for today - Roman and I didn't get out of bed and unwrapped from each other until a little later than usual this morning. And then we ran into Max and Maura in the kitchen, and the boys wound up talking about - what else? - hemp rope matters...
Foodie note: Last night I was in a carnivorous mood, so Roman and I went to the Ipanema Brazilian Grill down on First Avenue, and it was quite yummy. If you're a meat-eater, I recommend it.
The new column and the Kink Calendar are up, so go enjoy them...And this week, Roman got quoted in Dan Savage's column, so go read his words of wisdom to aspiring rope tops. I'm so proud of him.
Foodie note: Last night I was in a carnivorous mood, so Roman and I went to the Ipanema Brazilian Grill down on First Avenue, and it was quite yummy. If you're a meat-eater, I recommend it.
The new column and the Kink Calendar are up, so go enjoy them...And this week, Roman got quoted in Dan Savage's column, so go read his words of wisdom to aspiring rope tops. I'm so proud of him.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Ring Ring!
Me: Hello?
Caller: Hi, Mistress Matisse?
Me: Yes.
Caller: I'd like to talk about an appointment.
This is all sounding fine so far. I'm optimistic.
Me: Okay, have you ever seen a pro domme before?
Caller: No, but I'm very interested. I've done a lot of playing around, by myself you know, and I'd like to do a scene with a partner.
Still fine. Lots of people experiment alone, usually as part of masturbating. Boys who like cock and ball torture are the most apt to tell me stories about the creative things they've done to their bits. Sometimes these little tales of auto-erotic-sadism make my blood run cold. "You did what to your dick? With a number two pencil and pair of vise-grips? Jesus, honey, please don't do that – I'm a highly trained professional, let me do the evil things to you. That way you'll still have a functioning penis when it's finished."
So let's see if he's a CBT fan…
Me: Are there particular things you're interesting in exploring?
Caller: Yes, I have a fantasy role play in mind.
Me: Okay, what kind of roleplay is it?
Caller: Well, it's sort of a medical scene. And I like to cross-dress.
Me: Medical play is fine. I don't have much of a wardrobe for cross-dressers but if you'd like to bring your own clothes and dress, I enjoy that.
Caller: And…I like to pretend like I'm pregnant.
Okay…That's different. Not too many things I haven't heard of before now, but cross-dressing as a pregnant woman, that's a new one on me. But, all right, I can deal with that, I suppose.
Then I ask the obvious question…
Me: Pregnant…Okay, so does you being pregnant enter into the role-play?
Caller: Yes. I want to pretend I'm giving birth.
Wow. Okay. We're definitely into unusual-fantasy territory here. I suppress the urge to say, "You want to what?" Because this isn't a fantasy that seems particularly erotic to me. (Especially given that for my whole life, being pregnant and giving birth have ranked quite high on the "Things I Never Want To Experience" list, coming in just slightly behind being in a major airplane crash.)
But since he's the one who wants to give birth, not me, let's see if I can find myself anywhere in this fantasy.
Me: So – what role would I play in this fantasy?
Caller: You'd be the nurse helping me give birth. Sort of a sadistic nurse.
You know, you'd think in this day and age this kind of sex-role stereotyping would be obsolete. But no. A nurse. What the fuck?
Me: I don't role-play being a nurse. I could possibly play being a doctor. But not a nurse.
Caller: Okay, I'm sorry. Doctor. You'd be the doctor overseeing my delivery.
Hmmnn… "Doctor Matisse, sadistic obstetrician". I don't know. I don't think this is really a fit for me.
But I'm mildly curious…
Me: So, how exactly do you act out this fantasy? I mean, what do you…?
Caller: I have a doll.
Me: Okay.
Caller: And I'd want you to, you know, put it inside me.
Whoa. I know what he means when he says "inside" – and it's not a caesarian he's talking about – but I'm a little alarmed that this guy is asking me to put an infant-sized doll up his ass.
Me: Inside you?
Caller: Yeah, it's not that big. It's a Barbie doll.
Ah. Well, that takes care of one problem, although I now have to pause for a moment and consider the fact that I'm talking to a guy who wants to be fucked in the ass with a Barbie doll. And then pretend to give birth to it. The frightening thing is that I can actually sketch it out in my head pretty easily. "Right, first we'd do that, then a little of this, and then I'd…Yeah, and then he'd…And then the…Yeah, right, could work." I could even incorporate some forced breast-feeding. But I'm guessing an episiotomy is out of the question.
But just because I can mentally choreograph it out doesn't mean I actually want to do it, because I don't. For one thing, while I'm quite, quite sure he wouldn't be the first person to get pegged by Barbie, one of my fears would be one of Barbie's little arms would come off while she was up his ass, or one of her permanently-pointed toes would perforate something, or who knows what. So although I generally support the idea of pervertibles, this whole scene just doesn't feel like my cuppa. I think I'll politely decline.
Me: Uh, you know what, this doesn't really sound like my thing. I'm not so much with medical role-playing.
Caller: But you said you did medical.
Me: Well, yes, but what I'm really strongest with is the activities - like cutting and piercing, sounds, catheters, stuff like that.
Caller: Oh.
Me: Sorry, better luck elsewhere.
Caller: Are you sure?
Me: Yeah, I just don't think this is really for me.
Caller: Okay, well, bye….
As we hang up I think to myself, And be sure you tie off the umbilical cord…
Me: Hello?
Caller: Hi, Mistress Matisse?
Me: Yes.
Caller: I'd like to talk about an appointment.
This is all sounding fine so far. I'm optimistic.
Me: Okay, have you ever seen a pro domme before?
Caller: No, but I'm very interested. I've done a lot of playing around, by myself you know, and I'd like to do a scene with a partner.
Still fine. Lots of people experiment alone, usually as part of masturbating. Boys who like cock and ball torture are the most apt to tell me stories about the creative things they've done to their bits. Sometimes these little tales of auto-erotic-sadism make my blood run cold. "You did what to your dick? With a number two pencil and pair of vise-grips? Jesus, honey, please don't do that – I'm a highly trained professional, let me do the evil things to you. That way you'll still have a functioning penis when it's finished."
So let's see if he's a CBT fan…
Me: Are there particular things you're interesting in exploring?
Caller: Yes, I have a fantasy role play in mind.
Me: Okay, what kind of roleplay is it?
Caller: Well, it's sort of a medical scene. And I like to cross-dress.
Me: Medical play is fine. I don't have much of a wardrobe for cross-dressers but if you'd like to bring your own clothes and dress, I enjoy that.
Caller: And…I like to pretend like I'm pregnant.
Okay…That's different. Not too many things I haven't heard of before now, but cross-dressing as a pregnant woman, that's a new one on me. But, all right, I can deal with that, I suppose.
Then I ask the obvious question…
Me: Pregnant…Okay, so does you being pregnant enter into the role-play?
Caller: Yes. I want to pretend I'm giving birth.
Wow. Okay. We're definitely into unusual-fantasy territory here. I suppress the urge to say, "You want to what?" Because this isn't a fantasy that seems particularly erotic to me. (Especially given that for my whole life, being pregnant and giving birth have ranked quite high on the "Things I Never Want To Experience" list, coming in just slightly behind being in a major airplane crash.)
But since he's the one who wants to give birth, not me, let's see if I can find myself anywhere in this fantasy.
Me: So – what role would I play in this fantasy?
Caller: You'd be the nurse helping me give birth. Sort of a sadistic nurse.
You know, you'd think in this day and age this kind of sex-role stereotyping would be obsolete. But no. A nurse. What the fuck?
Me: I don't role-play being a nurse. I could possibly play being a doctor. But not a nurse.
Caller: Okay, I'm sorry. Doctor. You'd be the doctor overseeing my delivery.
Hmmnn… "Doctor Matisse, sadistic obstetrician". I don't know. I don't think this is really a fit for me.
But I'm mildly curious…
Me: So, how exactly do you act out this fantasy? I mean, what do you…?
Caller: I have a doll.
Me: Okay.
Caller: And I'd want you to, you know, put it inside me.
Whoa. I know what he means when he says "inside" – and it's not a caesarian he's talking about – but I'm a little alarmed that this guy is asking me to put an infant-sized doll up his ass.
Me: Inside you?
Caller: Yeah, it's not that big. It's a Barbie doll.
Ah. Well, that takes care of one problem, although I now have to pause for a moment and consider the fact that I'm talking to a guy who wants to be fucked in the ass with a Barbie doll. And then pretend to give birth to it. The frightening thing is that I can actually sketch it out in my head pretty easily. "Right, first we'd do that, then a little of this, and then I'd…Yeah, and then he'd…And then the…Yeah, right, could work." I could even incorporate some forced breast-feeding. But I'm guessing an episiotomy is out of the question.
But just because I can mentally choreograph it out doesn't mean I actually want to do it, because I don't. For one thing, while I'm quite, quite sure he wouldn't be the first person to get pegged by Barbie, one of my fears would be one of Barbie's little arms would come off while she was up his ass, or one of her permanently-pointed toes would perforate something, or who knows what. So although I generally support the idea of pervertibles, this whole scene just doesn't feel like my cuppa. I think I'll politely decline.
Me: Uh, you know what, this doesn't really sound like my thing. I'm not so much with medical role-playing.
Caller: But you said you did medical.
Me: Well, yes, but what I'm really strongest with is the activities - like cutting and piercing, sounds, catheters, stuff like that.
Caller: Oh.
Me: Sorry, better luck elsewhere.
Caller: Are you sure?
Me: Yeah, I just don't think this is really for me.
Caller: Okay, well, bye….
As we hang up I think to myself, And be sure you tie off the umbilical cord…
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Okay, everyone – the pope is dead. He was an old man, he was sick, and he died. That's too bad, I suppose, but old sick people die every minute of every day somewhere in the world, so can we please stop with the "All-Dead-Pope, All-The-Time" news coverage? I'm starting to feel like this version of TV Guide is the real one…
Given his asinine views on birth control, I'm sure the departed pontiff would have dug this site…
And while Johnny Paul probably would have been horrified by this, I'm planning on sending this link to all the guys who write to me asking how to become porn stars.
I don't wear glasses, but I think this looks cool. Max does - but somehow I just don't think he's going to go for the idea.
And this is a link that's been posted a number of other places already, but I think all new kinksters should be required to memorize it. And there should be pop quizzes.
A keynote speech by Laura Antoniou, author of the wonderful 'Marketplace' series of SM fantasy novels, giving a big ol' whack with the clue stick to silly perverts everywhere.
Given his asinine views on birth control, I'm sure the departed pontiff would have dug this site…
And while Johnny Paul probably would have been horrified by this, I'm planning on sending this link to all the guys who write to me asking how to become porn stars.
I don't wear glasses, but I think this looks cool. Max does - but somehow I just don't think he's going to go for the idea.
And this is a link that's been posted a number of other places already, but I think all new kinksters should be required to memorize it. And there should be pop quizzes.
A keynote speech by Laura Antoniou, author of the wonderful 'Marketplace' series of SM fantasy novels, giving a big ol' whack with the clue stick to silly perverts everywhere.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Operator Assistance
I had dinner with Miss K the other day and she told me a story…
"So this guy had called me and left me a message," - she rolled her eyes – "and I should have known he was going to be kinda clueless, because in the voicemail he said, I haven't done this in thirty years."
"He hasn't had sex in thirty years? Jesus Christ, you better get some industrial-strength condoms, because this guy's gonna shoot like Old Faithful."
"Yeah, maybe, although he definitely didn't sound like a spring chicken." She mimicked an old-man voice. "I haven't done this in nigh on thirty years, sonny." She shrugged and continued. "And you know I normally like older guys, but something about this one... I figured he meant he hadn't seen a call girl in thirty years, and I assumed that meant he'd be a little rusty with the etiquette. An assumption that was proved right when I called him back."
"What did he do?"
"Well, I called him and when he picked up, I said, 'Hi, is this Bill? This is (her work name), you called and left me a message.' And do you know what he did?"
"I'm afraid to ask."
"He said, 'Oh, no, you mean this is (her legal name)'."
"Wha-at?"
"Yeah. I just got that new phone, and I thought my name was blocked on outgoing calls, but apparently, it wasn't yet."
"Well, that's bloody annoying. But you mean this yahoo actually said, 'No, this is (her legal name)'? What a moron."
"Yeah, I thought it was pretty stupid, too," she said dryly.
"What did you do?"
"I figured one good stupidity deserved another, so I said, 'No, it's not. This is (her work name)'."
I laughed. "Hey, that's cool - brazen it out, baby. What did he say to that?"
"He acted all confused, and told me that (her legal name) was showing up on his caller ID, and I simply repeated that that wasn't my name. He told me I should call the phone company, then, and I told him that I certainly would be."
"Jesus. What happened then?"
"Well, he asked me my rate and acted kinda stunned when I told him."
"Maybe he thought there'd been a price freeze for the last thirty years."
I had dinner with Miss K the other day and she told me a story…
"So this guy had called me and left me a message," - she rolled her eyes – "and I should have known he was going to be kinda clueless, because in the voicemail he said, I haven't done this in thirty years."
"He hasn't had sex in thirty years? Jesus Christ, you better get some industrial-strength condoms, because this guy's gonna shoot like Old Faithful."
"Yeah, maybe, although he definitely didn't sound like a spring chicken." She mimicked an old-man voice. "I haven't done this in nigh on thirty years, sonny." She shrugged and continued. "And you know I normally like older guys, but something about this one... I figured he meant he hadn't seen a call girl in thirty years, and I assumed that meant he'd be a little rusty with the etiquette. An assumption that was proved right when I called him back."
"What did he do?"
"Well, I called him and when he picked up, I said, 'Hi, is this Bill? This is (her work name), you called and left me a message.' And do you know what he did?"
"I'm afraid to ask."
"He said, 'Oh, no, you mean this is (her legal name)'."
"Wha-at?"
"Yeah. I just got that new phone, and I thought my name was blocked on outgoing calls, but apparently, it wasn't yet."
"Well, that's bloody annoying. But you mean this yahoo actually said, 'No, this is (her legal name)'? What a moron."
"Yeah, I thought it was pretty stupid, too," she said dryly.
"What did you do?"
"I figured one good stupidity deserved another, so I said, 'No, it's not. This is (her work name)'."
I laughed. "Hey, that's cool - brazen it out, baby. What did he say to that?"
"He acted all confused, and told me that (her legal name) was showing up on his caller ID, and I simply repeated that that wasn't my name. He told me I should call the phone company, then, and I told him that I certainly would be."
"Jesus. What happened then?"
"Well, he asked me my rate and acted kinda stunned when I told him."
"Maybe he thought there'd been a price freeze for the last thirty years."
Monday, April 04, 2005
Today I have some questions for ya'll...
Does anyone know anything about these folks? If so, I'd be quite interested in hearing about your experiences, either here or via private email. They claim to have a good rating from Jane's Guide, but I can't find a review of them anywhere on Jane's site. And I admit that the mindset implied by their (rather skimpy) website did not impress me. But I'm open to hearing more...
Does anyone know of any Seattle-area "Furry" social groups or events? I'd list them in the Kink Calendar, if I could find any. Drop me a note or post it here... (What's a Furry? Read this, or this, or this.)
Speaking of the Kink Calendar, are there types of events you'd like to see listings for that I haven't touched on?
Does anyone know anything about these folks? If so, I'd be quite interested in hearing about your experiences, either here or via private email. They claim to have a good rating from Jane's Guide, but I can't find a review of them anywhere on Jane's site. And I admit that the mindset implied by their (rather skimpy) website did not impress me. But I'm open to hearing more...
Does anyone know of any Seattle-area "Furry" social groups or events? I'd list them in the Kink Calendar, if I could find any. Drop me a note or post it here... (What's a Furry? Read this, or this, or this.)
Speaking of the Kink Calendar, are there types of events you'd like to see listings for that I haven't touched on?
Saturday, April 02, 2005
Comments, questions, and update schedules...
A few quick remarks before I head off – Max and I have a date with a treadmill and some free weights, then dinner, then we're heading off to a party at a friend's house.
There have been a lot of great comments lately. However, as you may have noticed, I am not responding much in the comments box very often, and that's just because I don't have time. Plus, I've noticed that as often as not, your answers to any would-be challengers are pretty much what I would say anyway. (You're all so smart!) So I do really enjoy the feedback, and I like reading the interplay between the commenters, I just lack the time to participate much.
Sometimes people ask me questions in the comments box that aren't related to the subject of the post. You can certainly do that, but it's not the best way to get a thoughtful answer - or indeed, any answer at all - from me about anything. You'd do better to send me an email with your question, with the understanding that a) While I won't reveal your name/email address, I'll post it here and answer it here, and b) I'll answer it when I get around to it. That may be weeks or even months.
And while we're on the subject of posting…I've decided that in the future, I'm not going to blog (much) on the weekends. I may occasionally say something, but I have another writing project going and I think full-time blogging is taking too much of my writing time from that. So from this day forward, it'll be mostly weekday postings.
Now I'm going to go enjoy my day with Max...
A few quick remarks before I head off – Max and I have a date with a treadmill and some free weights, then dinner, then we're heading off to a party at a friend's house.
There have been a lot of great comments lately. However, as you may have noticed, I am not responding much in the comments box very often, and that's just because I don't have time. Plus, I've noticed that as often as not, your answers to any would-be challengers are pretty much what I would say anyway. (You're all so smart!) So I do really enjoy the feedback, and I like reading the interplay between the commenters, I just lack the time to participate much.
Sometimes people ask me questions in the comments box that aren't related to the subject of the post. You can certainly do that, but it's not the best way to get a thoughtful answer - or indeed, any answer at all - from me about anything. You'd do better to send me an email with your question, with the understanding that a) While I won't reveal your name/email address, I'll post it here and answer it here, and b) I'll answer it when I get around to it. That may be weeks or even months.
And while we're on the subject of posting…I've decided that in the future, I'm not going to blog (much) on the weekends. I may occasionally say something, but I have another writing project going and I think full-time blogging is taking too much of my writing time from that. So from this day forward, it'll be mostly weekday postings.
Now I'm going to go enjoy my day with Max...
Friday, April 01, 2005
Linky Goodness
The new column and the Kink Calendar are up, so go enjoy them...
I thought about trying to put together some April Fools links, but frankly, I'm too damn busy. The work phone has been going crazy this week, and I've been slammed, which is nice in many ways, but odd, because this is traditionally a slow time of year - federal taxes, you know. So while I go be creatively mean to some boys, browse these interesting links...
Navigating the murky waters of hiring a sex worker? Here's some info for you.
Several people have sent me this link: Russian scientists claims whipping reduces depression.
Oddly absorbing: The Industrious Clock.
Jesus Christ...I don't really know what to say about this. Except that it pisses me off.
The new column and the Kink Calendar are up, so go enjoy them...
I thought about trying to put together some April Fools links, but frankly, I'm too damn busy. The work phone has been going crazy this week, and I've been slammed, which is nice in many ways, but odd, because this is traditionally a slow time of year - federal taxes, you know. So while I go be creatively mean to some boys, browse these interesting links...
Navigating the murky waters of hiring a sex worker? Here's some info for you.
Several people have sent me this link: Russian scientists claims whipping reduces depression.
Oddly absorbing: The Industrious Clock.
Jesus Christ...I don't really know what to say about this. Except that it pisses me off.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
"By rights she should be taken out and hung...For the cold-blooded murder of the English tongue."
Professor Henry Higgens, "My Fair Lady".
This email, that I received today, might just win the "Utter Gibberish" award of the month. Looks a bit like the free online-translators have struck again, although I've heard from native English speakers whose writing was almost this bad.
If someone is going to drink cuts at my holy feet in order to become me, I may well be exiting myself. I don't know what the hell he means by that, but it sounds like a black magic ritual of some kind.
Demoted from what, one wonders? Some high rank in the Abussingian military, where femis are drafted and playful kittens are viscously punished? (Perhaps with pancake syrup or motor oil.) No, I don't think I want a whole hoard of you, thanks. It sounds messy.
Buddy, my parted ewes are not getting anywhere near you, I don't care if you are paralyzed.
Bread-slut? What the heck? Does that have anything to do with that edge mold?
Professor Henry Higgens, "My Fair Lady".
This email, that I received today, might just win the "Utter Gibberish" award of the month. Looks a bit like the free online-translators have struck again, although I've heard from native English speakers whose writing was almost this bad.
To worship You in person instead of has computer screen is dangerously exciting. I hope that I become You one day. I will drank cuts to earn it! The thought of laying tied up vulnerable, exposed and helpless At Your feet completely At Your mercy gold worshipping Your holi feet, is so exiting that I get goosebumps! Very Very exiting!
If someone is going to drink cuts at my holy feet in order to become me, I may well be exiting myself. I don't know what the hell he means by that, but it sounds like a black magic ritual of some kind.
I just has totally sincere, honoest, open and demoted slut, who needs training, disciple, abussage and transformation (drafted femisation), to Be molded into the perfect and being useful. This is because sometimes I get careless and playful like has little kitten, and need I viscous punishment and correction. CBT, whip, all kinds of bondage, nhipple torture, gags, trampling, foot/boot worshipping, trampling, spankinds of bondage, wipping roleplays all like this I. Sstrap one play too, I want to be your hoard.
Demoted from what, one wonders? Some high rank in the Abussingian military, where femis are drafted and playful kittens are viscously punished? (Perhaps with pancake syrup or motor oil.) No, I don't think I want a whole hoard of you, thanks. It sounds messy.
I sorry am I blatint, goal I believe honoesty, sincerity and partedness is the key to trust and respect. I know that when my ewes meet Yours (only with Your permission of curse) I will feel weak paralyzed and vulnerable.
Buddy, my parted ewes are not getting anywhere near you, I don't care if you are paralyzed.
If pleases Mistress I will Be melting like has melted wax that You edge mold into anything that infilters You (for example being useful, bread-slut, boot-slut, abbsuage sissy maid, plaything gold just anything You desire...). I edge only hope, with all my heart, that one day You will find me waxing Your boots gold shoes (the whole collection!) with my tongue.
Bread-slut? What the heck? Does that have anything to do with that edge mold?
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
A gentleman named Si asked me this interesting question:
"Does your kinky community support skilled people within its ranks? Do you use kinky plumbers, accountants etc. for preference since you know you won’t have to deal with (in your charming phrase) ‘banjo eyes’ if they have to deal with receipts from Kinkfest, or unexpectedly unearth a flogger from beneath the water heater."
Well, I certainly do. Sometimes I do it out of loyalty to "my community" as much as for my own convenience. A car mechanic, for example. I could just as easily go to a vanilla person, but given a otherwise-equal choice, I'd opt for a kinkster, just because, you know – one of us.
And other times it's simply a necessity. My housecleaner really must be kink-friendly, and it helps a lot that my bookkeeper is too. The plumber for the toilet in the dungeon? Gotta be a pervy person. And yes, that's because I don't really want to deal with a weirded-out vanilla contractor. Some BDSM people have no problem "squicking the mundanes", as my friends and I call it. But not only is that often inefficient in terms of getting the proper professional service, I think it's kind of rude.
As a sidebar… I often have innocent newbies assume that I have a ton of slaves who do all my housework and errands and such for me. For free.
To that I say: Hah. I'd have better luck waiting for the Easter Bunny to hop into my kitchen and do the dishes. Sometimes I think having a slave* is something like having a yacht or a private plane. They are lots of fun, and yes, they are sometimes quite convenient. But while they might occasionally save you time in some areas, it will be equaled, and often exceeded, by the time and energy you spend doing the maintenance on them. Because in my experience, slaves are high-maintenance creatures. That's why I don't have a personal (meaning: not a client) slave. I enjoy thrashing people a great deal, and I'll do scenes where I role-play a Mistress/slave relationship for an hour or two. But a 24/7 Mistress/slave relationship – no, that's not for me right now. I just don't have the time.
(*Note: I am using the word "slave" in a very non-specific way, and in this case it includes bottoms, submissives, et cetera.)
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Phone Messages
YOU HAVE SIX NEW MESSAGES. PRESS ONE TO HEAR MESSAGES.
BEEP!
FIRST MESSAGE:
"Hi, um, I love your articles, I just wanted to put a voice to the other end of the collar."
END OF MESSAGE.
Okay, that's fine. I assume he means other end of the leash, but, whatever…
NEXT MESSAGE:
"Charles. (Pause.) 206-XXX-XXXX. (Pause.) You. (Pause.) And me. (Pause.) Together. (Pause.) Call me."
END OF MESSAGE.
I. Don't. Think so. Charles.
NEXT MESSAGE:
"Oooh, uh, Mistress, my cock is so hard for you, I wanna suck your-"
MESSAGE DELETED.
NEXT MESSAGE:
"Uh, yeah, this is (unintelligible mumble) call me back (mumble mumble), 206-(mumble)-XXXX."
END OF MESSAGE.
There's a sex workers "review board" for the Seattle area that I read occasionally, and one of the frequent complaints there is about ladies who don't return phone calls. Well, if you mutter into the phone, so that it's impossible to understand what you're saying, you will definitely not get a call back. Speak up and speak clearly, boys.
NEXT MESSAGE:
"Hi Matisse, it's me, John – you know, John from Idaho, with the cell phone ringer that sounds like an ambulance siren? I just wanted to let you know I won't be able to make it over to see you this coming month – Uncle Sam gets all my play money for April – but I'll be back around next month, and I'm looking forward to seeing you then. Bye."
END OF MESSAGE.
I have such sweet, thoughtful clients. It's not at as if I would ever question John about why he didn't come to see me one month. I'm fully aware that my boys do have real lives apart from seeing me, and other demands on their time and money. But it's very nice of him to let me know.
NEXT MESSAGE:
"Charles. (Pause.) "I want to show you things." (Pause.) Things you can't even pronounce." (Pause.) Call me."
END OF MESSAGE.
What, Mr. Trying-To-Be-All-Sexy-Voiced Charles is a pharmacist? Because I've seen some medication names that I would have to struggle to utter aloud. (Chlorpheniramine? Phenylpropanolamine?) Otherwise, I have no idea what he means, because I actually can pronounce all the proper Latin terms for what I bet he's thinking about.
YOU HAVE SIX NEW MESSAGES. PRESS ONE TO HEAR MESSAGES.
BEEP!
FIRST MESSAGE:
"Hi, um, I love your articles, I just wanted to put a voice to the other end of the collar."
END OF MESSAGE.
Okay, that's fine. I assume he means other end of the leash, but, whatever…
NEXT MESSAGE:
"Charles. (Pause.) 206-XXX-XXXX. (Pause.) You. (Pause.) And me. (Pause.) Together. (Pause.) Call me."
END OF MESSAGE.
I. Don't. Think so. Charles.
NEXT MESSAGE:
"Oooh, uh, Mistress, my cock is so hard for you, I wanna suck your-"
MESSAGE DELETED.
NEXT MESSAGE:
"Uh, yeah, this is (unintelligible mumble) call me back (mumble mumble), 206-(mumble)-XXXX."
END OF MESSAGE.
There's a sex workers "review board" for the Seattle area that I read occasionally, and one of the frequent complaints there is about ladies who don't return phone calls. Well, if you mutter into the phone, so that it's impossible to understand what you're saying, you will definitely not get a call back. Speak up and speak clearly, boys.
NEXT MESSAGE:
"Hi Matisse, it's me, John – you know, John from Idaho, with the cell phone ringer that sounds like an ambulance siren? I just wanted to let you know I won't be able to make it over to see you this coming month – Uncle Sam gets all my play money for April – but I'll be back around next month, and I'm looking forward to seeing you then. Bye."
END OF MESSAGE.
I have such sweet, thoughtful clients. It's not at as if I would ever question John about why he didn't come to see me one month. I'm fully aware that my boys do have real lives apart from seeing me, and other demands on their time and money. But it's very nice of him to let me know.
NEXT MESSAGE:
"Charles. (Pause.) "I want to show you things." (Pause.) Things you can't even pronounce." (Pause.) Call me."
END OF MESSAGE.
What, Mr. Trying-To-Be-All-Sexy-Voiced Charles is a pharmacist? Because I've seen some medication names that I would have to struggle to utter aloud. (Chlorpheniramine? Phenylpropanolamine?) Otherwise, I have no idea what he means, because I actually can pronounce all the proper Latin terms for what I bet he's thinking about.
Sunday, March 27, 2005
We're very bad, aren't we? Roman and I tell you we'll take requests and post them, and then what do we do but ignore you all weekend. Bad, bad kinksters.
But we're not really sorry, because we had a sweet, intimate weekend together, and we were very relaxed and mellow, which, given the usual frantic pace of our lives, was extremely nice.
We did take a few pictures, which you can see here. And I think I'm going take some portrait shots of Roman later tonight. I'll post them, but not immediately, because I'm going to be shooting film. Yes, film. I like film. Digital is nice for instant gratification, but there's a depth to film that mere ones and zeros cannot duplicate.
We'll have some video footage as soon as we edit it. But right now I think it's time for dinner...
But we're not really sorry, because we had a sweet, intimate weekend together, and we were very relaxed and mellow, which, given the usual frantic pace of our lives, was extremely nice.
We did take a few pictures, which you can see here. And I think I'm going take some portrait shots of Roman later tonight. I'll post them, but not immediately, because I'm going to be shooting film. Yes, film. I like film. Digital is nice for instant gratification, but there's a depth to film that mere ones and zeros cannot duplicate.
We'll have some video footage as soon as we edit it. But right now I think it's time for dinner...
Saturday, March 26, 2005
Okay, we have some photos and we do have video, too...Look for that later today. Highlights:
~ What can you mix with absinthe? (Without having flames come out of your mouth.)
~ What does Roman's back look like after having sex with me?
~A story of a bizarre incident in my early kink career. Told naked.
~ What can you mix with absinthe? (Without having flames come out of your mouth.)
~ What does Roman's back look like after having sex with me?
~A story of a bizarre incident in my early kink career. Told naked.
Friday, March 25, 2005
Well. You certainly were full of suggestions, both here and over on Roman's blog. What nasty little minds you have, some of you. No wonder I enjoy writing for you so much.
And while some of your requests require a bit more in the way of props, costuming, supporting cast and production crew than we've actually got this weekend, we'll file them away for future projects.
So, the Weekend of Wickedness, Ver. 2 will commence this evening, but for now...Go read the new column and the Kink Calendar.
And some other silliness, too...
~ Is that you, baby, or just a brilliant disguise?
~ This may be the best Craig's List posting I've ever seen, I don't care if it is Photoshopped. (Thanks to Jeff for pointing it out.)
I had another link here, to a "mistress" webpage that I thought was really impressively over-the-top in terms of name-calling, nasty attitude (not the sexy kind, either) and just a lot of general bitchiness directed at potential clients. However, I just checked the site again and it's been changed - toned down considerably. Given that I found the link on another journal where it was also being snarked at, I'm wondering if the site owner got some rather straightforward feedback and decided to modify her presentation a bit. Dare I hope that this is the beginning of a move towards pro dommes not calling visitors to their websites "sissy faggots"?
Update: Wait, wait - the original page is still there, it's just the name had been changed. Huh, I wonder why? Anyway, it's here...
And while some of your requests require a bit more in the way of props, costuming, supporting cast and production crew than we've actually got this weekend, we'll file them away for future projects.
So, the Weekend of Wickedness, Ver. 2 will commence this evening, but for now...Go read the new column and the Kink Calendar.
And some other silliness, too...
~ Is that you, baby, or just a brilliant disguise?
~ This may be the best Craig's List posting I've ever seen, I don't care if it is Photoshopped. (Thanks to Jeff for pointing it out.)
I had another link here, to a "mistress" webpage that I thought was really impressively over-the-top in terms of name-calling, nasty attitude (not the sexy kind, either) and just a lot of general bitchiness directed at potential clients. However, I just checked the site again and it's been changed - toned down considerably. Given that I found the link on another journal where it was also being snarked at, I'm wondering if the site owner got some rather straightforward feedback and decided to modify her presentation a bit. Dare I hope that this is the beginning of a move towards pro dommes not calling visitors to their websites "sissy faggots"?
Update: Wait, wait - the original page is still there, it's just the name had been changed. Huh, I wonder why? Anyway, it's here...
Thursday, March 24, 2005
This Weekend...
So, this is going to be an interesting weekend for me. You see, Max is going out of town. He's going down to California to drive very fast around a racetrack down there, because he likes that sort of thing. I, on the other hand, am going to try not to think very much about my darling zooming around in a car at high speeds, in close proximity to other people who are also zooming, because it worries me a bit. I drive fifty in a thirty-miles-per-hour zone, and that's my idea of driving fast. But I digress…
Max being away and all, Roman and I decided to try a daring poly experiment: we would spend two nights together in a row. That's big. Okay, so I'm being mildly facetious here, but in fact, we've never had a weekend-long date before. I myself think it's going to be lots of fun. Roman had some trepidations earlier this week, but he seems to be over it now.
We don't have any big plans - sleep in, go out to dinner, watch a movie or two, drink a little absinthe. Just spend time together. (It goes without saying that there, of course, will be plenty of kinky sex involved. Hence the sleeping-in part.)
But we also agreed that we'd like to do some photography, and some video, this weekend when we're together. And Roman and I decided that we're willing – with some restrictions – to take requests, from you, our loyal readers, for photos and or video content.
The restrictions are: be reasonable. We are not going to put up images of us fucking or anything. (Not for free, anyway.) We'll consider nudes on a case-by-case basis, but don't get your hopes up.
I will say that if you have a question you've wanted to ask, you can send it to us and we'll do a video clip of our (verbal) response to it. I often get questions that are way too complicated to answer without writing a hugely long email, which I don't have time to do. So, submit a question and if it's interesting, we'll answer it. We'll probably start posting whatever we've got on Saturday, and we'll update as we go.
Ready, set, go…
So, this is going to be an interesting weekend for me. You see, Max is going out of town. He's going down to California to drive very fast around a racetrack down there, because he likes that sort of thing. I, on the other hand, am going to try not to think very much about my darling zooming around in a car at high speeds, in close proximity to other people who are also zooming, because it worries me a bit. I drive fifty in a thirty-miles-per-hour zone, and that's my idea of driving fast. But I digress…
Max being away and all, Roman and I decided to try a daring poly experiment: we would spend two nights together in a row. That's big. Okay, so I'm being mildly facetious here, but in fact, we've never had a weekend-long date before. I myself think it's going to be lots of fun. Roman had some trepidations earlier this week, but he seems to be over it now.
We don't have any big plans - sleep in, go out to dinner, watch a movie or two, drink a little absinthe. Just spend time together. (It goes without saying that there, of course, will be plenty of kinky sex involved. Hence the sleeping-in part.)
But we also agreed that we'd like to do some photography, and some video, this weekend when we're together. And Roman and I decided that we're willing – with some restrictions – to take requests, from you, our loyal readers, for photos and or video content.
The restrictions are: be reasonable. We are not going to put up images of us fucking or anything. (Not for free, anyway.) We'll consider nudes on a case-by-case basis, but don't get your hopes up.
I will say that if you have a question you've wanted to ask, you can send it to us and we'll do a video clip of our (verbal) response to it. I often get questions that are way too complicated to answer without writing a hugely long email, which I don't have time to do. So, submit a question and if it's interesting, we'll answer it. We'll probably start posting whatever we've got on Saturday, and we'll update as we go.
Ready, set, go…
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
I was going to write something about my upcoming weekend, because I actually have a fun weekend with Roman planned. But unfortunately, I had to finish the Stranger column and I got way too crunched for time, so that'll have to wait til tomorrow.
Instead, a few other random things to amuse you…
Gaze in wonder upon this gorgeous picture of my gorgeous friend, Rose Algren, the Imp of Satan. Makes you want to go straight to hell, doesn't it?
In contrast, I ran across a snapshot taken backstage of me at a fashion show I did at the Seattle Art Museum a few years ago. I was modeling for my friend Orion, and when I sat down in front of the show's hair designer I said, "I'm wearing wings and a tail, so how about something sort of Medusa-ish?"
This, dear friends, is what that man did to me. Yeah, that's all my hair. Miss Queeny Thing teased it until it looked like a bunch of snakes, all right. So while I'm sure I was a striking sight, when I got home I had to get in the shower and pour damn near a whole bottle of conditioner through that tangled mass, and finger comb it, til the hot water ran out. And I was still combing out snarls the next day. The things one does for friends. (Not to mention trying to walk down the stairs at SAM, in high heels, with those beads in front of my eyes. Yikes.)
And here's a shot that makes you think, "What bizarre bit of cross-marketing strategy is behind this odd combination?"
More about my weekend tomorrow....
Instead, a few other random things to amuse you…
Gaze in wonder upon this gorgeous picture of my gorgeous friend, Rose Algren, the Imp of Satan. Makes you want to go straight to hell, doesn't it?
In contrast, I ran across a snapshot taken backstage of me at a fashion show I did at the Seattle Art Museum a few years ago. I was modeling for my friend Orion, and when I sat down in front of the show's hair designer I said, "I'm wearing wings and a tail, so how about something sort of Medusa-ish?"
This, dear friends, is what that man did to me. Yeah, that's all my hair. Miss Queeny Thing teased it until it looked like a bunch of snakes, all right. So while I'm sure I was a striking sight, when I got home I had to get in the shower and pour damn near a whole bottle of conditioner through that tangled mass, and finger comb it, til the hot water ran out. And I was still combing out snarls the next day. The things one does for friends. (Not to mention trying to walk down the stairs at SAM, in high heels, with those beads in front of my eyes. Yikes.)
And here's a shot that makes you think, "What bizarre bit of cross-marketing strategy is behind this odd combination?"
More about my weekend tomorrow....
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