I had a lovely afternoon yesterday, spending time with old friends and new. I ate yummy food, a talented musician played her cello for us, and we talked about different ways of branding people. Delightful.

And as we all emerge from our L-Tryptophan haze... here is the new column and calendar.

Happy Bird Day, everyone…

What am I thankful for? I’m thankful that this damn holiday only comes once a year, because sex workers, this is the week from hell. If one wants to actually see clients, that is. The phone is always very quiet Thanksgiving week - most of my good regular guys are understandably busy with family. But those of us who are buying houses soon are sitting around drumming our fingers and staring at the phone, because we would like to conduct business as usual Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday.

And when the phone does ring, I let guys who I know, absolutely know, are dodgy and unreliable sweet talk me into booking time with them. I know they’re unreliable because they’ve made and then cancelled appointments before, or I know because I can just hear it in their voices. But having nothing else to do, I give them a chance….And then they call back and cancel. Grr.

No, I haven’t actually been stood up, thank god, and yes, I understand, things do happen, at least they’re letting me know, yeah yeah yeah. But I’ve had four cancellations this week. Normally I get about one or two cancellations a month. It’s frustrating. I don’t know why Thanksgiving is so much worse than any other holiday, even Christmas, for this kind of thing, but it is.

Oh well - it’s over now, and I even got to rant about it a little, which helps. And I’m thankful for the cool guys who have made and kept appointments with me. Enjoy your bird.

I was in bed last night, reading this: Extreme Encounters: How It Feels to Be Drowned in Quicksand, Shredded by Piranhas, Swept Up in a Tornado, and Dozens of Other Unpleasant Experiences.

It's an interesting book. But then I'm the girl who really liked Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers, and The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook.

However, I did have very odd dreams.

So, since some of you seem to know it anyway – yesterday was my birthday. (And no, I’m not telling you how old I am. Nope. No way.) I didn’t not-say anything on purpose, I’m just so focused on everything else in my world right now that frankly, I hardly noticed. Max had some plans for us to do something special over the weekend, but they were scuttled by the fact that I had caught a touch of that cold that's been going around town. I feel fine today, but I was sort of blah and uninterested in going out for a fancy dinner, etc.

Roman has some bizarre bit of birthday performance-art in store for me, which, knowing him, probably involves lawn gnomes, some duct tape, and a gallon of Marshmallow Fluff. (To read about last year's birthday surprise, go here.) But based on both our schedules, we decided we'd wait until Friday to have that little party.

And I'm not upset about any of this, because in general, I’m not interested in making a really big deal about my birthday. My theory is that I get to be a diva on a regular basis, so it’s not like I have to save it all up for once a year and then demand that everyone fuss over me. I get fussed over a lot year-round. Lucky me.

It's also that I prefer to take my moments of happiness and celebration of life more spontaneously, rather than scheduling them. I’m like that about all the publicly-observed holidays as well. I don’t have a strong objection to them, they just seem sort of contrived.

(I don’t mind presents, you understand. Presents are always a nice thing. And I got some very lovely ones, so thank you, thank you, to the sweet people who gifted me so generously.)

I’m currently rather preoccupied with my real estate situation, which is coming along nicely, thank you. I'm not going to talk it about much now, because I’m superstitious about talking about anything until it’s a done deal. Can’t jinx it, you know. However, I have chosen a house, and everything is progressing as it should at this stage. I will reveal more about that as it become appropriate.

Max is cooking a traditional dinner for us and a few friends on Thursday. Of all the holidays, T-day is the one I’m the most what-ever about. Left to my own devices, I’d order pizza and go to the movies. But Max likes to cook, and it’s always nice to have people for dinner, so, as long as there’s no televised football involved, I’m fine with it. (Actually there is never, ever, televised football in our house anyway. It’s one of the reasons why Max is so right for me – he hates sports.)

So, yes, birthday - thank you, Mom, for not drowning me at birth, or any other time, even though I’m sure I deserved it. And yes, Thanksgiving, after which I can return to my regularly-scheduled crazy life that I am so fond of.

A relatively quiet weekend, which was nice. Max and I did go see the new Harry Potter movie. The theater was packed, luckily we got there early and snagged decent seats.

The movie itself? Eh, not bad. I enjoyed it well enough because I’ve read the books. But I think it’s the weakest HP movie so far.

(Here follows a critique of the movie. Yes, I’m a professional dominatrix. Yes, I’m a perverted sex freak. And yes, I like Harry Potter. Give me any shit about that and I’ll set your genitals on fire*.)

I think the movie suffered mainly because the source material was so long. Since the book is 700+ pages, the movie disposed of about the first quarter of it in the first seven minutes, completely eliminating certain characters and great swathes of action. And instead of the actual movie, I sort of felt like I was watching a ninety-minute trailer, because it was all quick cuts and selected scenes, with big jumps in the storyline. If I hadn’t read the book, I would have been very puzzled by certain parts. Perhaps the DVD will have some deleted scenes, but I doubt it’s got, oh, another hour or so, which is what it would take to really do the book justice. Even watching certain parts with Maggie Smith and Michael Gambon, I felt like they were almost rushing through their lines, as if someone was saying, “Hurry, hurry, we only have a few seconds for this scene!”

That said, I enjoyed visiting the characters again – although there wasn’t nearly enough Severus Snape in this film, and I missed him. When he was onscreen, though, Alan Rickman definitely didn’t rush any of his lines - God bless his nasty heart. Makes me want to go rent that stealth-kink classic Closetland once again. (If you ever wanted a how-to movie for mindfuck scenes, Closetland would be it.) With Alan Rickman, it's The Voice, you know, and The Stare. I've seen guys try and pull off The Voice and The Stare in real life, and they usually come across like silly posers, but with Alan, he makes you think he'd be that way over breakfast.

And Daniel Radcliffe is turning into nice eye candy, if you like young boys. Which I usually don’t, but one can make exceptions.

Ralph Fiennes as Voldemort? Um, not bad, I guess. Not particularly creepy, though. The fact that he had no nose was distracting to me, although I understood that they were trying to suggest a resemblance to his snake. His dress was definitely too billowy, though. At one point, it bore an unfortunate resemblance to a gown worn by Julie Andrew in a very different movie. “The cemetery is alive with the sound of music…!”

Overall, not the HP movie to start off with, especially if you haven’t read the books, but entertaining enough as such things go.

*And yes, I do know how to do that.

Bad Business Strategy, Example #267

No Tanning Beds Were at Salon, Police Say

NORTH MYRTLE BEACH, S.C. (Nov. 18) - Undercover officers noticed something conspicuously absent from a tanning salon - tanning beds. The only tanning bed on the property of VIP Tann Spa was found in a wooden box on the porch, officer Jerry Miller said Thursday.

Miller said the so-called tanning salon was actually a very different kind of business: Three employees and two customers were charged with prostitution and related charges after the undercover visit last month.

The undercover officer found makeshift beds and other evidence people were being paid for sex, Miller said.

Investigators took business receipts, credit card statements and cash before closing the salon. The County Council revoked the owner's business license.

People, I keep telling you - in sex work, it's those pesky little details that'll make you or break you. Like, if you're posing as a tanning salon, you should actually have the tanning bed unpacked from the box. That's always helpful.

And "makeshift" beds? I'm not sure I want to know what those might be. Seems like if you're going to be ballsy enough to leave your tanning bed in a box on the porch, you'd just say what the hell and have real beds. I mean, why be coy? God knows the "tanning-salon" dodge has got whiskers on it anyway.

Happy Friday, everyone...

This week's colum and calendar.

And an interesting piece in The Stranger about the FBI crackdown on SM porn.
Several people nudged me to write something about this topic, but I knew a feature writer would get more word count and thus do it more justice. Interesting slant, using the prisoner/torture issue to point out just how fucked up the Bush administration's obscenity stance really is.

Wow, I seem to be very, very busy this week. It's all good stuff, but lordy... And of course, I'm spending my off time thinking about things like furnaces and wall-to-wall carpet. Oooh, how kinky am I?

Miss K, my best friend and official decorating consultant, loves it. We spent our last dinner talking about replacing mantles and painting faux-finishes.

Still, I'll be pleased when all my housing stuff is settled and I get back to being focused on the more salacious aspects of my life. All this Better Dungeons and Gardens stuff is getting to me.

***

But Wait: One bit of amusing news I noticed today. All you guys who asked me about this, start polishing up your resumes - or something - because Heidi Fleiss is opening a male brothel.

The Real Estate Obsession Continues...

Some more houses I will (almost certainly) not be buying. But these I actually looked at, and I gave all of them serious consideration.

This one's large and pretty and it has a nice flow to the upstairs. But there's no garage or carport or anything, and while the basement is large and very nicely finished, it's very low-ceilinged.

This one's got great space and lovely vaulted ceilings - but it's in a development, in a cul-de-sac. Four other front doors looking right at yours. I don't like that, it doesn't feel private, and privacy is a very big issue to me.

This one is nice, and it's a great location for me. But the basement is too small - in fact, the house is a bit small overall. Color me skeptical about the quoted square footage.

Pretty, and in many ways a serious contender, but - not quite. It just felt sort of over-remodeled, if you know what I mean? Almost bland.

This is very funny – to me. But only because I know how silly it really is. It's a video-clip of a Heineken ad, so I would call it fairly work-safe, although it does feature - you guessed it - a dominatrix.

It’s not that no one in the kink community ever does scenes that look like this – at least, like the first few seconds of this. But tops coming off with that heavy “you don’t deserve to be in the same room with me” attitude is rarer than a vanilla person would think. Particularly here in Seattle, that kind of MO will draw about as much snickering as it will cowering.

There's also the unfortunate it’s-only-funny-because-it’s-true angle of the unprofessional pro domme taking a cell phone call in the middle of a session and ignoring her client. Needless to say, one should never do that, and I never would. But I do hear about other ladies answering their phones in the middle of a session all the time. Lordy.

However, I do think it’s cute that she’s cooing sweetly into the phone to her supposed lover. I’ve done that with Max and Roman. But not on my client’s time, of course...

Ah, a sweet date with Roman last night. We ate Ezell's and gave each other massages - before moving on to more...intense activities.
Now I'm off into my day. Enjoy the new column and calendar...

Several houses that I will not be buying. Way out of my price range. But ooh, they're pretty....

Nice light...

Pretty view - plus, you can check traffic!

Love the woodwork.

And hell, as long as we're in the no-possible-way department, check this one out, it's got it's own elevator. I know someone who'd like to do a suspension bondage scene in the shaft.

An article on kink in Psychology Today. It's a not a bad piece, I suppose, although someone really needs to tell the author - identified only as "PT Staff" - to stop saying "s AND m". That's soooooo dated. Just say "SM".

But overall, it's just a lot of cliches couched in comforting therapist-speak. I don't strongly object to that - there are certainly worse ways to have my community depicted. Can someone send this piece to Attorney General Alberto Gonzales, please?

But snippets like this make me giggle....

"A common female masochistic fantasy is submission based on having one's body displayed to others. One of Baumeister's favorite--perhaps apocryphal--stories is that of a woman whose husband threw her a birthday party, inviting lots of people. She was posed nude and spread-eagle on the hors d'oeuvre table. Every party-goer who reached for a cracker or the vegetable dip had to reach across her bare self."

First of all, they're confusing - or perhaps equating - "masochism" with "submission". That's wrong, they're two different things. Masochism is about the desire for intense physical sensation, and submission involves emotional/phychological states. What's being described here doesn't seem to involve any intense sensation, so I would not call this a "masochistic" scene.

Also note the soothing suggestion that this story couldn't have really happened. Oh, my goodness, a woman being nude and helpess in front of lots of people? Shocking! Shocking, I tell you! I'm thinking that "PT Staff" would probably have a stroke if they ever came to the Wet Spot. Or a party at my house, for that matter. Lots of people doing a lot more than just being naked. Why, just Sunday night, I put chopsticks on a woman's outer labia, poked them with a bamboo skewer, and smacked them with a small wooden spoon. This, after Roman had stuck her lovely tits full of needles. That's my idea of a "common female masochistic fantasy".

Amusing things I did this past weekend…

Well, in the more vanilla portion of my weekend, I looked at lots of houses. Some of them were cute, but small. I like old houses, but a lot of them have dinky little rooms.

I looked at one house that was pretty from the outside, and large, with tall ceilings. It had big rooms, but unfortunately those rooms looked like the Parisian rioters had come through them. Actually, it looked like Parisian rioters had come in, installed hideous fake wood paneling, rioted, and then left. I could have dealt with holes in the walls and shredded carpet. But fake paneling? Save me.

When Max and my kink-friendly agent and I go look at houses, we immediately go down into the basement and look up. Good ceiling height? Okay, let’s go see the rest of the house. Are we banging our heads? Screw it, we don’t care about the Pergo or the patio or the jetted tub, we’re outa here. I’m sure any normal house-buyer would think we were very, very strange.

Sunday I hung out with Roman at Max’s bondage class, and then a bunch of us went to dinner before coming back for the bondage party. I had a date to teach Griffin how to do a cutting on Liss; meaning, how to take a scalpel and do a light, decorative incision on her skin. Yeah, it’s kinda painful. But not as much as you might think.

It's tough to practice a skill like cutting before you get to the actual scene. I’m not a big proponent of having people rehearse on objects like, say, tomatoes. I just don’t see the point unless you’re trying to hone your purely artistic skills, as opposed to your technical ones. People’s skin and the skin of a tomato – I just don’t feel like they’re that similar. I don’t know, do medical people practice on fruits and vegetables? (Eddie, wanna field this one?)

So Griffin had not handled a scalpel before. And it was also to be Liss’s first cutting. A double-cherry situation, how charming. Now, I’ve seen Liss do some extreme stuff as a bottom, but still, cutting can be intense. So I took the basic precaution of having Liss lie down for the scene. That’s always best, because that way, if someone passes out, hey, they can’t fall down.

I know Griffin does needle-play, so I was pretty sure he’d be fine. But just in case, I asked him, “You don’t faint at the sight of blood, do you?”
He grinned. “Not other people's.”

Well, all righty then. So after having some “materials, safety and technique” discussion with him, I took the blade and did one stroke on the ever-intrepid Liss myself. Not big, maybe two inches long. It elicited a small breathy noise from Liss and a pleased “ooooo” sound from Griffin.

First things first. “Liss, how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.”

She looked and sounded fine, too, so that was cool. I talked to Griffin a little more about what we were doing. When you cut, you don’t see anything for a few seconds, and then a thin red line suddenly appears. So cutting is most often a slow-paced, contemplative scene. (Yeah, yeah – some of us know a few people for whom it is something different. But let’s not frighten the other kids too much, all right?) You cut, you pause and wait and look at what you've got, and then you cut the next stroke.

Gauging how much pressure to put into the stroke is the key to safe cutting, and that’s a thing that’s hard to communicate verbally. Someone has to be sensitive enough to feel the skin responding to the blade as they go, and instantly make the tiny adjustment to go a little lighter, or a little more firmly. Lighter is always better, though. I always tell people: you can go back and recut, if it’s too light. If it’s too deep, though, that’s a problem less easily solved.

So I showed Griffin how to hold the scalpel – like a pencil – and said "Okay, here we go".

Watching someone open up skin for the first time is a kick. I vividly recall my first cutting, with a tall, green-eyed dyke standing behind me, coaching me like I was coaching Griffin. I remember being nervous, but tremendously excited. Griffin was just the same - later he remarked to me, “There’s all this excitement in your body, and you have to be careful not to let too much of it flow into your hand.”

The end result: he did a very good job – I think he’s got a knack for it. And Liss did very well, too. I’m not sure if she got a buzz off it or not, but she’ll have a pretty little design on her back to show for it. I do like teaching people new ways to express their kink.

Notes about my professional availability...

Well, the appointment with the mortgage broker went reasonably well. Based on that, I'm talking to an agent, letting him show me some houses, and thinking about all of my different options. But the end result of this is going to be me writing some mighty large checks. I've been preparing for that, financially, for a while. But things always cost a little more than you think they will, don't they?

What that means to you, dear beloved clients of mine, is that for the next two months or so, I’m going to be a little more professionally available than I usually am.

Here’s how that will look: I generally book appointments starting at two pm and ending at eight pm, and I don’t see people on the weekends. However, I’m going to relax those rules temporarily. As of today, I’ll book appointments as early as twelve noon, and if you’re someone I’ve met before, I’ll take appointments with an ending time of up to ten pm.

I’m also going to be so somewhat available on the weekends. I have social engagements booked for every Saturday night from now through Christmas, so Saturday night is right out. But Saturday afternoon, and Sunday afternoon or evening, will be possible.

As far as evening appointments go, notice what I said: if I’ve met you before. I absolutely will not make late appointments with new people, just because there’s a very high no-show rate for first-timers on late appointments. Don’t ask me why, there just is. People call on a whim, and then they flake out, and I don’t have time for that.

Or they don’t flake out, and you wish they had, because they’ve been drinking or otherwise impairing their judgment. Bad, bad, bad.

So I’m not ever going to put myself in a situation of dealing with someone I’m not comfortable with, even to buy myself a mansion. I’m just expanding my hours a trifle, and it’s probably only until I close on the house. So this is a limited-time opportunity.

(Unless I decide I want to remodel or something…)

You know, I’ve gone pretty much my whole adult life thinking of myself as a renegade. A societal outlaw. A cultural desperado, if you will.

But as of today, all that ends.

For today, I have an appointment with a mortgage broker.

Sigh.

So while I try to reassemble my personal identity to include this experience, go read the newest column and calendar.

Various silliness…

Cute men’s restroom art in New Zealand.

And more Kiwi-related information: The Blokes Guide To Taking A Leak. You boys worry way too much about this stuff, did you know that? Catching one glimpse of another guy's dick will not make you gay. If that was true, there would be way, way more lesbians in the world, because we all see other women naked at some point or other.

And speaking of naked women, apparently Scooter Libby has written a smutty book. (It doesn't sound like a very good smutty book, you understand. Young girls forced to have sex with bears? Ew. )
Those silly Republicans! Don't they know dirty books like that are all part of a Communist plot to take over the free world? Tsk, tsk.

Interesting thread about a often touchy topic: weight and body image. In this case, specifically about the bodies of people in the BDSM community.

It does seem like there are a lot of big people in the community. Why is that? Well, I don't know, and I usually refrain from speculation. It's one of those topics where I think you have to be a member of the group (meaning, a big person) to speak with authority about it, and I ain't, so I shut up.

I listen, though, and some of the things I hear said are:

-It's just a reflection of our culture in general.
-It's a way for big chicks to get dates/laid. (I heard this from a large female-bodied person.)
-It's because BDSM people value other things over traditional beauty.
-You don't have to be thin to get dates in the BDSM community, so people "let themselves go".

Now, if I believe any of these theories, it's probably the first one: lots of Americans are big, and the BDSM community is no exception. I can't believe any woman would do BDSM if they didn't really want to, just to get guys. And I'm so sorry, kinky people are not somehow "above" being attracted to traditional beauty. I don't buy the "let themselves go" theory, either. (Go where?)

But I'm curious to know what some of ya'll might think.

Foodie

I don't feel profound today. Let's talk about something basic, like my taste in food.

I am actually quite boring about food. I think all my sense of adventure and desire for variety got put into my sexuality, because the whole food thing is just not a big deal to me.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy my favorite foods. But I’m just not one of those people who's all about trying new and unusual cuisines. And if I can't identify what exactly it is, or if anything about it seems wrong to me, forget it, I’m not going there. Roman and I were at a fancy dinner party not too long ago where we were served something that looked and smelled like nothing as much as wet cat food, and I absolutely balked. He covered for me, thank god.

One of the things I miss here in Seattle is: seafood joints. I mean little neighborhood joints. I used to hang out in this great little place in my hometown with wooden booths and peanut shells on the floor, where every Tuesday was all-you-can-eat boiled shrimp night, and dollar-fifty Bud longnecks. That’s a seafood joint. Here if you want seafood, you’re going somewhere with a white linen tablecloth. I have nothing against that, but sometimes it’s just not what you’re in the mood for.

And I’m still looking for really satisfying BBQ in this town. Yeah, yeah, I know, Pecos Pit, yeah yeah yeah. Been there. It’s okay, but not that great. Ditto Jones Barbeque. I mean, hey – I’m from Georgia. I know from BBQ. I am not easy to please around this.

Where do I go a lot? Oh, KingFish Café, Palermo’s, Hana, Coastal Kitchen, the Madrona Ale House...

I was at Cafe Septieme a lot for a while, but I'm sort of over it now. I still like the red walls, though.

Pomodoro, over on Eastlake Ave, is yummy if I’m in the mood for a sort of Spanish/Italian fusion experience.

JaK's Grill does good steaks, but it’s a bit off my usual path.

For a take-out-fried-chicken-fest: Ezells. Worth the heart attack it’s undoubtedly promoting.

Late-night diner-type food? Charlie’s, on Broadway. Much better service than Minnies, and 13 Coins is both too surreal and too overpriced. (I've actually been known to eat at Denny's in the wee small hours, too, but everyone I know howls in protest at the very notion.)

Breakfast? Glo’s. The B&O Cafe is a close second, and they do great after-theatre dessert, too.

If someone else is picking up the check: The Metropolitan Grill, The Oceanaire, or The Union Square Grill. I keep meaning to try El Gaucho, but I haven’t gotten around to it. Canlis is good, but not to die for. (Lovely view, though.) I like Ruth's Chris better.

Then there’s pizza, one of nature’s perfect foods. I have three favorite places in town, so it depends on what kind of pizza I’m in the mood for. Stellar’s has great sauce, Madame K’s does a terrific crust, and Bill’s Off Broadway loads tons of yummy, gooey cheese on their pies.

I regret the passing of Chang's Mongolian Grill on Broadway. I also miss La Louisiana on Cherry.

Guilty Pleasures: Red Lobster. Yeah, you tell yourself it’s for the fish, but the fact is, those little cheese muffins are like crack cocaine. Have a strawberry daiquiri and you’re really in low-brow-food heaven.
And The Melting Pot. Yes, it’s gimmicky, and it takes forever. But it tastes good.

I’m curious about The Frontier Room – I was there about a million years ago when it was a pretty seedy dive, but I hear the food is good now. I also want to try Alexandria's on 2nd. Anyone got a review?

***************************************
Roman and I went to see "Capote" last night. It was astounding. Absolutely amazing. I have never seen a man's inner conflicts, and his path to emotional suicide, so skillfully portrayed. If Phillip Seymour Hoffman doesn't get an Oscar nomination, there is no justice in this world.

And now, ah... a long, quiet weekend, with no big events, stretches blissfully out in front of me. Maybe I'll rearrange my bookshelves.
(I know, that's not what you think of me doing with my weekends. But I'm a girl who needs her down-time, too.)

Oh, and the new column and calendar, in case you're looking for ideas about what to do with your weekend.