Insert sophomoric joke here about “commentary on briefs.” Hey, I can’t help it; Dacia’s excellent Naked City interview with Sadie Lune reminded me that I once had my photo taken on Ho Plaza:

Anyway, somehow I’ve ended up with 7 items pinned in Bloglines again. Oh, bother. So here’s some stuff I wanted to talk about at greater length:

• porn law follies (from Open Source Sex)

  Violet Blue explains some of the profuse idiocy that is Section 2257. If you don’t know much about 2257, don’t care, or (especially) if you think it’s a good idea because who would want to repeal it except sickos who dig child porn, you should definitely read this post. Money quote, emphasis original:

  You know, I’m really in favor of laws that make sense when it comes to kids, adults and porn. Too bad we don’t have any.

• Oh, the irony (from Mistress Maeve)

  I could really relate to Maeve here. I’ve experienced that feeling of revealing something to a sex partner (a fantasy, desire, preference, etc.) and having them not respond positively, and feeling utterly crushed and embarrassed - and of course, with my annoying idiosyncrasy of crying at inopportune times, having the tears sting my eyes. And I don’t think there’s any shame in that - it shows that we’re human, and when we open ourselves up and make ourselves vulnerable, as you have to do with sex (even casual, no-strings-attached hook-ups require a certain level of vulnerability; all sex does), deeply-felt emotions are on the line. Especially living as we do in a sex-negative society that has told us all along that our desires are wrong and bad and shouldn’t be discussed in “polite company.”

  So, really I think it’s good for those of us who advocate for sex-positivity and open, healthy communication in relationships to have experienced that kind of thing, because it helps us remember that this stuff is hard - but so worthwhile.

• Previous Posts Revisited (from $pread Blog)

  An excerpt will speak for itself for this one:

  For instance, when Lyderson claims “the vast majority of young women in prostitution are controlled by pimps and suffer worse conditions in terms of violence, number of clients and lack of autonomy the longer they stay in the trade”, what is actually meant is that the vast majority of prostitutes in the DePaul study fit that description, and this is a study of only 100 women. Similarly, when she goes on to talk about percentages (”58 percent of women were transported to different locations for prostitution”) it would be equally true to say simply “58 of the respondents were transported”….but “percentage” sounds more dramatic and substantial than providing the actual number.

• Booty 911: Butt Pimples B-Gone! (from Naked City)

  I pinned this post as a reminder to myself. I am so ordering this product.

…okay, there are others I want to mention, but I’m too damn sleepy to write anymore. Bed beckons.

[This is a post from: Being Amber Rhea]

A

I come from a family of Republicans, and often I find their average Joe ruminations about politics to be an interesting insight into the conversations that must be going on in houses all over the un-internetted portions of the country.

Yesterday, as I rode with my parents to dinner, my Dad told me that my grandfather who has not missed voting in a presidential election in 40+ years is talking about staying home in November. Apparently, my Grandpa thinks that John McCain is just going to be "more of the same," and Grandpa can't abide voting for that. (Of course, this Iowa farmer turned Florida retiree isn't very likely to suddenly vote for the Democrat either.)

My Dad then started talking about how he'll probably vote for McCain. He wants to wait and see what happens once Obama is the nominee, once they start drawing real distinctions between the parties' positions on major issues. I mentioned my suspicion that different approaches to Iraq are likely to be the central conflict between McCain and Obama in the fall, and my Dad launched into the argument of how irresponsible it would be to just pull the troops out of Iraq. I asked him if he would be OK with it if the decision over whether to withdraw the troops remained a campaign issue in the 2012 election, considering McCain has said the earliest he can see withdrawal being achieved is somewhere around 2013. My Dad shrugged in defeat, as though he had started a fight he didn't want to proceed with because he suspected he would lose.

Mom said she's thinking of voting for Obama, she just doesn't know yet who she thinks will do a better job. (Mom voted for Perot--twice--so she's more prone to party-jumping when she's dissatisfied with the Republican candidate.) She has watched a few of his speeches and finds Obama quite inspirational and powerful, but she's a little worried that he's too green. But she's keeping an open mind about it.

The one thing all three agreed upon: they would never, ever, in a million years even consider voting for Hillary Clinton. And if she were on the ballot, they would definitely have voted Republican.

Again, for what it's worth. I find these sort of political trends in my family to be interesting in light of the general malaise in the Republican party and the unprecedented enthusiasm and involvement of new and occasional voters in the Democratic party. These are, I think, good trends.

Looks cozy, huh?

It feels like a miracle, a dream come true. I got got two tickets to see the beautiful trickster, the gruff angel himself, Tom Waits! The show is in July and boy has my heart never pounded so hard just from clicking from screen to screen on a website.

I have loved him since I heard him for the first time in Alan's car sophomore year of high school and have never had the chance to see him before. I would travel miles to see him, but now only have to head a little south on Peachtree to the Fox Theater.

Here's his hilarious press conference announcing the tour:

Should I cut it all off????

It is driving me nuts.  It's clogging the bathtub drain.  It lays on my back when I ride my bike.  It makes me sweat.  It only looks good for an hour after I wash it.

I have been letting it grow since I was bald two and a half years ago.  BALD.  It grew back curly... then half of it went straight, then the other half started to grow in straight.  Now, about half of the remaining half is curly.  It just makes lots of tangles and knots.  It is strange.  It looks ok but it strange.

Here are some photos.  I'll post photos of potential hair cuts tomorrow.  The weirdest thing is that once I cut it... I'm fairly certain the chemo curls are going to be GONE.  At first I hated them.  They were like a scar to me.  I didn't recognize them.  But now, I've grown to love my curls.  I'll miss them.  The half to go though... it is way way too long.

I need some opinions.


So what do you think?  Which one do you like?  I might do this tomorrow if it rains.

Check out these interviews Rachel Kramer Bussel did with me, Viviane, and Twanna. They’re a precursor to an upcoming Huffington Post piece. Here’s an excerpt from my interview:

How do you see the “sexual community” where you live vs. the community you’ve found online? What do online communities offer that offline ones don’t regarding sexual openness?

It’s not always a simple matter of delineating “online” and “offline” community; the beauty of social media is that those barriers are breaking down. My online community is my offline community. Maybe not all the time, when things like geographic distance comes into play; but all these people who knew of each other thanks to the internet came together at Sex 2.0 and had a really kick-ass time in Atlanta.

But speaking of geographic barriers, online community can fill the gaps when people aren’t able to get together IRL. If you live in an isolated area, you might feel pretty cut off from others who share your sexual interests; but with access to the internet, suddenly you’re not so alone anymore.

Also, online, people may feel more comfortable talking about things that are painful or embarrassing for them to discuss face-to-face. This is a useful facet of online community regardless of what one’s offline community looks like.

[This is a post from: Being Amber Rhea]

clipped from www.npr.org California Court Overturns Ban On Same-Sex Marriage The California Supreme Court on Thursday overturned a voter-approved ban on gay marriage, paving the way for California to become the second state to allow marriages between same-sex couples. The court found that California laws limiting marriage to heterosexual couples are at odds with rights guaranteed by the state's constitution. Voters approved the California ban in 2000. The legislature has twice passed laws making gay marriage legal, but Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger vetoed them both, citing the will of the voters. The court decision was expected to inspire a November ballot initiative to ban gay marriage again.

I made this box for my beautiful friends Rebecca and Garrett, the most in-love people I have the wonderful fortune of knowing, in honor of their wedding this past weekend. (There was even a Blah Girl guest!) She tells the lovely story of their beginnings in her post In Celebration of the Magic and Reality of Unicorns:

I suppose Unicorns don't really exist. The mythology is just that-- a myth. Or perhaps, they are real. Maybe I am just lucky enough to live in a magical world inhabited by one.

Congratulations West Side!

If you really want to get inspired, read the court decision. Love it. Love it. Love it.

A

I usually hate Gawker but this is hilarious and so true:

Quiz: Are You An Online Jackass?

I IMed Rusty the URL and told him I marked it for him in del.icio.us. I’m surprised that wasn’t on the list!

[This is a post from: Being Amber Rhea]

Via Ren, I see there’s a new meme in town!

It’s Jack’s brainchild (although one could argue Kim’s been doing it for months).

I’m on a mission. People have to do this. There is no escape. LolBaby. For realsies. The meme is you find an embarrassing baby picture of you, and you caption it! On Icanhascheezburger.com.

So here’s mine:

Now you go!

Update: Okay so I forgot that in lolspeak, “Iz” often translates as “I’s” - as in, “I’s in your [blank], [blank]ing your [blank].” But in my photo, I meant it as “is.” “Is not cheeseburger.” Get it? ‘Cause I’m eating a washcloth? I thought it was obvious… but just in case, there you go. Never mind. I updated it.

[This is a post from: Being Amber Rhea]

I went bat/ape shit crazy today while I was on my bike.  I nearly got hit on broad street by some asshole.  We exchanged words.  Then someone ugly gas guzzling freak passenger screamed at me ten minutes later that, I should find a street with bike lanes.

I chased them down.

I got in her face.

Yeah, I'm 5'3" and 115lbs and not been in a fight  since I was 12 (unless you count fist fights with ex boyfriends).  I'm 33 years old.  I'm a pacifist and a feminist.  Yet... I wanted to kick her ugly ass.  I'm clearly an idiot.  I'm surprised I didn't get slapped around.

I asked her if she'd ever even rode her bike in the city.

She told me she doesn't have a bike because she has a car and doesn't want to get in people's way because she is considerate.  I explained to her I was riding on the shoulder of Pine street, I was nearly going the speed limit and I was no where near in their way.  I pointed out that we both got to the red light at the same time anyway.  Then I asked her when the last time she did anything healthy was.  I asked her if she liked spending $4 per gallon for gas.  The light turned green.  I chased them down to the next one so I could continue my lecture. 

I lost my mind.  She sucked on a blow pop.  I didn't call her fat or say anything totally rude, but I was red faced and angry.  I think she may have been afraid of me.  She told me to have a nice day, I'm pretty sure she just wanted me to leave.  The driver of the car stared straight ahead.  Looking back, it seems clear that they thought I was a maniac white girl in a suit.

Sometimes my anger scares me.  That woman's comment on top of the asshole whose bumper seemed to be magnetically attracted to my bike just made me lose my marbles.

I'm feeling much better now.

In other news... I saw some of the filming of Marley and Me today when I went to lunch.  At lunch I contemplated potential hair cuts with a co worker.  The co-worker was a guy so the conversation was useless.  I'll post a survey in the next few days.

To everyone who bought raffle tickets or posted about the raffle tickets to their blogs.  THANK YOU!  Your doing a great thing and your kindness means the world to me!

It’s 7:45 on Wednesday night.

There’s too much to be done between now and when the movers arrive at 9am Saturday, but instead of packing feverishly, I’m on the bed in my jammies with the polar bears, the laptop screen illuminating my face and washed but unbrushed hair. Jackson Browne is on downstairs trying to motivate me but the television has sucked me in and has partially drowned him out. I’ve moved three times in the last three years and really - if The Mc is at the gym avoiding working around here, why shouldn’t I?

Oh right, OCD.

Doesn’t seem to have a hold on me tonight.

The house looks like it’s being squatted in by a team of lactating he-she crack whores. Even the bedroom is a shambles. There’s an empty box in front of the armoire, waiting for me to pack up my relocated turtles. They’re here only because I couldn’t bear to pack them away in order to show the house as part of some witness relocation program. Nevermind the man behind the curtain or the turtles behind the doors. My nightstand books are in an unclosed box next to their recently vacated home, every ounce of laundry I’ve done in the last two weeks is strewn over the chair and ottoman, the bedding from the front guest room is in a heap by the door because I didn’t have it in me to fold it when someone came to buy the bed they used to cover.

My couch and over stuffed chair - the one from another lifetime that I bought because of the hint of red in the accent pillows that perfectly matched the cranberry I’d painted the living room - gone now. Sold. Purged. Resized.

My artwork is leaned against the walls downstairs (his pieces are still hiding in various closets throughout the house – banished when I moved in), my mom’s china half packed, the stockpile of crystal vases and jars and candle holders I never use or display are on top of the hutch waiting for private transport.

Boxes, boxes, boxes are piled in every room, flagged with either neon green or neon pink sheets of paper with the abbreviations STOR or APT respectively marked on them with a big, fat, Marks-a-lot.

Saturday night we’ll go to sleep in our new cement room, in the city but still on the west siiiiiiiiide.

I’ll be able to step out my front door and run again, no cursing the hill into the neighborhood for discouraging me. I’ll be minutes from the office and minutes from friends (sadly minutes further from other key friends…) with fewer potholes and steel sheets and washboard roads between there and anywhere. I’m not going to miss not knowing my neighbors or living in a house entirely too big for two people and their cats, but I’ll miss the hummingbirds and robins and bluebirds and the wall of green behind the house and maybe - just maybe - the quiet, too. I need to write things down for the new homeowners, moving here from Seattle. Where the closest PetSmart is and the fastest way in town on backroads, and I’ll leave them paper towels and TP and garbage bags. Soon, I’ll spend less time in the car, more time with me - use less gas, reduce my carbon footprint. I’ll be living more simply and with less of my things than I have in a decade and a half. Things that have always offered me comfort and safety when I had none.

Crap. There’s the garage door – better go pretend I was being productive…

A

NARAL Pro-Choice America endorsed Barack Obama yesterday, but you'd think they'd declared him lord and master over all women for all time the way female elected officials and feminists are freaking out. Rep. Jane Harmon called it a "betrayal." Rep. Debbie Wasserman-Schultz says she feels "abandoned" by NARAL. Emily's List head Ellen Malcolm called the endorsement "disrespectful" and complained that "[i]t certainly must be disconcerting for elected leaders who stand up for reproductive rights and expect the choice community will stand with them."

Maybe I'm missing something here, but since when is it wrong for a pro-choice organization to endorse the candidate they feel will be the best candidate on choice issues in the general election, even if he happens to be a he? Obama and Clinton are both strong defenders of the right to abortion, and the only tipping point for Clinton appears to be that she is physically capable of having one. I don't see how an endorsement of Obama by a pro-choice group constitutes any sort of abandonment, betrayal or disrespect. Of course, that may be because I have never understood the sense of entitlement that Clinton and her backers have always felt for the support of every female voter, every female-oriented organization, and frankly just about everyone who's not in Barack Obama's immediate family.

Nobody doubts that Clinton has been a strong defender of reproductive freedom. She has a 100% voting record for every year she's been in the Senate. (So, by the way, does Obama.) But NARAL is entitled to decide who they want to endorse without taking the sex of the candidate into account, and I commend them for doing so. It would be a mistake to allow reproductive rights to be treated as solely a women's issue or an issue that only women really care about. Getting male candidates like Obama to stand with NARAL just as strongly on these issues is exactly how NARAL achieves its goals of making pro-choice positions the political mainstream. What good would endorsing a sinking ship simply because she is female do to NARAL's political objectives?

I know that what these people who are complaining really wanted NARAL to do was to wait for Clinton to bow out gracefully. The problem, unfortunately, is that she is showing absolutely zero interest in doing so. Even today her campaign is touting their fundraising, claiming that West Virginia shows she could still win, and doing everything in their power to act like they still have a shot. The downside of this strategy is that organizations like NARAL and big names like Edwards will deliver the message to the voters that Obama is the nominee and that it's time to support him, even if Clinton doesn't want to hear it. I expect that the big names will only continue to fall into line, not slow. And it will be no sign of disrespect, no betrayal. Simply the way things are going to be. Those who whine about it will only continue to look foolish and wounded, and as someone who has been known on occasion to whine until I look foolish and wounded, I know what a weak place you have to be coming from in order to sink that low. It might hurt, but it's time for these women to admit the truth and get started on moving on.

It was uneventful in all the good ways, and eventful in all the bad ways. Saturday, in a $500 tournament I almost didn't enter due to a bad premonition, I had my nightmare scenario: I went out of a tournament in about 20 minutes when my pocket Kings ran into pocket Aces. I've obsessed about that one enough for 10 lifetimes, so I won't be talking about it any more.

Sunday, I played a single table and then I played in a $200 tournament that started at 10pm. I know that my poker brain shuts down at about 1am, so I probably should have avoided this one. Ultimately it wasn't fatigue but cold cards and an inability to get anyone to respect my bets that put me out. However, my friend Richard was playing in only his second tournament and came in 11th, netting $324, so that was the one high point of the trip from a poker perspective.

Monday I played in one single table and came the closest I've been to winning. Ultimately, I was ganged up on by 2 little snot nosed kids from UGA who had traveled there together and all but openly conspired to put me out so that they could chop the win. But I played it as well as I could, and that was all I could ask for.

Yesterday, I played in a $300 event. This was the best poker I have ever played in one of these things, and for the first time I actually felt like I was getting respect at the table other than in a Ladies' Tournament. There were several excellent players at my table and I had built my stack up nicely, until a hand that I should have played but didn't because I was scared of having 4 people in the pot when I only had pocket 7's. In retrospect, I think I should have reraised to isolate the smaller stack who had pushed in front of me, and hopefully forced out the other 2 players. I would have doubled up, and would not have been in a position to have to fold when my big bet with 99 was reraised all in, or pushing with a short stack when my JJ was beaten by QQ. Drastically crippled, in my final hand I had 6-7 suited versus not one but two sets of pocket aces.

Despite not winning anything, the last tournament was significant for me. I can hold my head high on that one because with the one exception of one hand I was too cautious, I played everything else perfectly and I made it at least to halfway in a tournament of nearly 400 players. Even if I didn't make money, I finally got to feel like I knew what I was doing.

Other than the poker, the trip was the mixture of fun, dirt, beauty, sleaze and sadness that is New Orleans these days. There are far too many high points to mention, but a list that includes riding the streetcar on Monday for 3 hours, Antoine's for brunch, a lovely blues club on Frenchmen Street called DBA, and good times with good friends would be a good start.

On the downside, my hotel room had bedbugs (before I got moved to another room) and so I shall now commence to being paranoid that I am going to accidentally bring them into my house through my luggage. Which is still in my car. For this very reason.

Admittedly, I was getting nervous about moving to a treeless Tempe, Arizona. I realize it's a rocky desert terrain, but if the Tempe Daily Photo blog is to be believed, we will not be completely without green vegetation.

But none will be as lush as those in beautiful Savannah...

Sniff.

My expectations simply could not have been higher walking into the Variety Playhouse's doors to see DeVotchKa. My sister has seen them multiple times and talks about the experience passionately. This means high stakes in our family.

Everything Reem told me and blogged about was right. There were moments of the show where I couldn't stop smiling and clapping along, and then there were moments where a huge lump would develop in my throat and I struggled not to let my eyes overflow.

Their sound is a fusion of mariachi, east European, bolero, and American folk. The band's talents scale a range of instruments- accordion, sousaphone, stand-up bass, trumpets, bouzouki. There was a full string quartet that played with them through most of last night's show.



We stood right in front; it was amazing to be right next to them, part of the cabaret. We were close enough that I can tell you that the bottle of wine they swig from is Bohemian Highway- the same $3.99 a bottle that I buy in cases. (I drink the Cab, they drank Merlot.)

We were so close that from time to time I would feel self conscious that the band saw me standing, unmoving, mouth slightly agape because I was so blown away but what was happening in front of me.

Lead singer and guitarist Nick Urata's voice is stunning, almost identical live as to their recordings. He sounds like a young Roy Orbison and he moves like Johnny Cash. He would barely hum into the mic and it sounded heavenly. And how can you not love a man who plays the theremin?



Tom Hagerman, the accordion, violin (1st violin for you orchestra geeks) and piano player is a master musician, switching effortlessly from style, instrument and song and adorable playing the piano with one leg tucked underneath him.

Reem had told me that Jeannie Schroder a.k.a. TubaGirl always looks like she's smiling while playing the sousaphone - because that's the shape your mouth makes. But the trumpet-player-slash-drummer Shawn King smiled the whole time regardless whether he was playing or not. Maybe because it was his birthday which the band celebrated with candles on a red velvet cake at the end.

Here's some video of them playing "Queen of the Surface Streets". My favorite part is when the string quartet pizzicatos along with the xylophone and then you see TubaGirl dancing and clapping along.



Highlights for me were I Cried Like a Silly Boy and their cover of Siouxsie and the Banshee's The Last Beat of My Heart. Transliterator was an epic to the proportions of GN'R's November Rain or the Dead's Terrapin Station. They rocked it out with a triple song encore of wild wonderful gypsy music.

And my honey got me the setlist! I had gotten one at a Jerry Garcia Band show in 1992 and the roadie took it from me "that's already promised to someone". Bored. And then at Concrete Blonde a few years later I picked it up off the stage but this jackass tore it out of my hands. So this is my first setlist ever from a show!



Like my sister realized, I will never not see them. Until the last beat of my heart.