hoe town

my rant yesterday regarding slutty halloween costumes was in no way a criticism of real, honest to goodness sluts. open your vagina to the world girls, just be smart about it. what i don't like are "pretend" sluts and the sexualization of children. oh, and i don't like women (or men) who think that overt displays of raunch for the benefit of crowds of drunk men is "liberating." there's a lack of irony in today's mass culture i find disturbing. maybe it's because i'm from "generation x" when irony reached it's cultural pinnacle. whatever.

m. bought me a vibrator yesterday. i'm so in love. (why are vibrators ok and artificial vaginas just creepy?) we met some friends on the street when we were on our way home from the sex shop. they were going to the coffee house with their manual typewriter. we were going to m.'s house with a vibrator and a bottle of brandy. there are lots of ways to spend a sunday afternoon. . .

ass years away

m. and i are starting a band called "slutty fetus." our debut album will be titled faster than the speed of ass. we came up with this high concept endeavour after witnessing the parade of slutty costumes the girls were wearing for their big halloween night on the town. april was a slutty witch and amber-lee (yes, that is her real name) was dressed as a slutty brownie. if you're canadian, you'll recall that brownies were the step before girl guides (similar to girl scouts, etc.) brownies are in the 7 to 8 year old range, and i myself was a brownie, but i thought it was stupid and did not continue onto girl guides. the uniform for a brownie is a utilitarian brown dress with an orange and white neck scarf that has to be tied in a special knot. anyway, a slutty brownie? come on. that's gross. m. was like, "what's next? the slutty toddler outfit?" and i was like "no. next year it should be the slutty fetus." how awesome would that be? because, really, if the fetishization of children has become as acceptable as women choosing to sexualize their childhood experiences to that extent, then i say we need to go back to the womb. imagine how disturbing it would be to see an image of a fetus, all veiny, bulbous eyes, still partially "webbed" fingers, umbilical cord, maybe even covered in a little blood and mucus, wearing fishnets, a short skirt and a tube top. people would be appalled. but, somehow, the slutty brownie is a-ok. christ. have you seen what 7 and 8 year old kids are wearing these days? it makes me want to live in a remote part of northern canada. the "post-feminist" cultural scene is really creeping me out.

i'm going to watch hedwig and the angry inch tonight to make myself feel better. another great show to watch when you're feeling utter despair about the vacuous wasteland of current pop culture, is strangers with candy. it's a tv series created by and starring amy sedaris. that's some funny shit, man.

yeah, i said "cum rag"

i'm listening to pork soda, released by primus in 1993. i haven't listened to this in over 10 years. i found it in the discount bin at the local cd shop and couldn't resist. my favorites were, and still are "my name is mud" and "nature boy." i almost didn't buy it though because i thought it would reek of highschool too much. thankfully i've been able to listen to it with a "fresh ear."

m. and i went to the history of violence last night. david cronenberg is a subversive freak and i love it. when we got back to my house, i made us some tea. i never really got to drink my tea because m. was naked almost as soon as we got upstairs. i'll spare you the gory details but i have to say m. is a subversive freak and i love it. it's always weird coming downstairs to use the bathroom after m. and i have just fucked our brains out. can my room mates hear us? we try to be quiet but, you know, whatever. does our heterosexual passion gross out the lesbians and they're just too polite to say anything? i hate coming downstairs in my bathrobe (which is really just a bath towel) to get a "cum rag" or to use the shower for a quick rinse and meesh will just be sitting at the dining room table reading. is she really reading or is she just too traumatized to move or say anything?

my mouth still hurts, but i think it may be getting better. i still wake up every night in excruciating pain, though. maybe i need to elevate my head. you know, like sleep propped up a bit. i don't know. what do you think? maybe i'll actaully get some useful blog spam commentary, not the private road construction one again. i just don't understand it.

love is annoying

i feel contemptuous today. specifically of my boyfriend. i am alarmed by this because i am supposed to be in love with him. i'm hoping that i feel this way because i quit smoking cold turkey and have a nagging weird pain in my mouth that never goes away. plus, there's a variety of drugs swimming in my veins that are supposed to relieve that nagging weird pain. at any rate, i need more personal space. i can't spend too much time with even my closest friends without hating them a little bit. i'm sure he'll understand. he's used to tempermental head cases-- he was a theatre promoter in the late 80's- early 90's in toronto. it's hard not to be jealous of him sometimes-- he's had the life that i always kind of wanted: full of famous people (including kid's in the hall and kurt cobain-- major influences when i was a teenager, icons of my youth, etc.) travelling, the "finer things in life" and drugs. sigh. oh well. biologically, he should die before i do, especially now that i've quit smoking.

i saw what i might look like with a penis this morning, though. that was interesting. m. was laying on his bed naked and i was straddling him while fully clothed. when i looked down, his penis was positioned in a way that it looked like it was coming out of my pants. i said, "i have a penis." and we laughed and laughed.

private road construction

my boyfriend rocks. he's making me "soft dinner" tonight: garlic mashed potatoes, poached salmon and chocolate ice cream. yummy. then he's going to spank me while i call him "mister discipline." should be fun. he told me last night that my mouth smells like a hospital. sexy. it's because of the medicinal clove goo. the magical goo that saves me from "dry socket." he still wants to have sex with me, so maybe he finds "hospital mouth" titillating. whatever. as long as i'm getting some.

dinner time. . .

dry socket

a "few" years ago i did a lot of peeing in public places. this was on my birthday: a harrowing night of mushrooms and "treasure" hunting. i got tired of pissing in the bushes so i switched to these comfy concrete trash receptacles. . .



in other news, i spent the majority of last night writhing in agony on the couch. i seriously wanted to kill myself. i found out today that bit of fun is called "dry socket." exposed nerves from the extraction of my teeth. i was warned about "dry socket" but i figured i was safe since i have been religious about salt water rinses, no straws and no smoking. that's right, folks. i haven't had a cigarette in 5 days. i think i've quit, and that's the only good thing about this whole experience. i went back to the dentist today and she stuffed some clove goo into my "dry socket" and like magic, i feel no pain. now the other side of my mouth is starting to hurt and i have to go back. the receptionist advised me to bring a book because there's going to be a long wait. why am i so retarded? there's no way i'm not going, though. after last night's extreme torture i'd rather swallow broken glass than feel "dry socket" again.

hmmm. i think my perogies have been sufficiently over-boiled, so i must now eat them. soft food. . . .

grimace

i want to die. the codeine i've been taking has made me constipated and it's not even killing the pain anymore. i also haven't had a cigarette in 4 days because i want my mouth to heal as quickly as possible. so i'm bunged up and incredibly bitchy. and i am in p a i n. pain. pain. it has become the only thing. i don't know how people with chronic pain issues manage not to kill themselves and/or everyone around them. if i have to hear "you poor thing" one more time, i am going to start stabbing.

i am in hell.

me

this what i look like according to me'shell melvin and her sewing machine.

um, ok

i am aware of the irony

so. i am now 4 less teeth than i used to be. it wasn't so bad, really. the doctor explained what the possible risks and complications are when extracting wisdom teeth. for example: nerve damage that would leave my face slightly lopsided or perhaps my bottom lip would droop slightly in a permanent "mopey-face." or, damage to my sinus cavity, which would prevent me from blowing my nose for a few days. hmmmm. anyway, neither of those things happened. i calmly listened to him explain how he was going to break my teeth apart and gouge them out in bits. normally, i would find this kind of information alarming, likely even panic inducing, but he seemed like he knew what he was doing. i was "sedated" for the procedure rather than put under general anesthetic. the nurses kept calling the sedatives "nice drugs." i was excited to learn more about how the "nice drugs" were going to feel, but after the iv was in all i remember is looking at a print on the wall in front of me and giggling. the next thing i knew the nurse said it was over and i stood up. it's been up and down ever since. only one side of face is swollen and i accidentally pulled out one of the sutures last night. all i've got for the pain are tylenol 3's, which are ok, but they alternately make me wired, grumpy or vaguely stoned. i am not looking forward to going back to work tomorrow.

and right now, i feel it is my duty to warn you about the stupidest book ever published: selected journals of jann arden: i'll tell you one damn thing, and that's all i know! her "inner thoughts" are quite possibly the most inane combination of grossness and schmucky sentimentality i have ever read. don't ask why or how i came to read this horror of a book, but i know more about jann arden than i ever wanted to. really, for her to have the nerve to publish her own journals as though they were of any literary or even "inspirational" value is an indication of a colossal and seriously misguided egotism that ends up sounding painfully hilarious. this is an example of what jann wants to share with the world:

i hope norah jones wins everything at the grammy's. i hope dianna krall wins as well. i hope the world doesn't blow up. i hope people can bear each other for a few thousand more years. i need to repack. i think i heard the doorbell. - p.77

where did christmas come from all of a sudden??? it certainly rushed in like a flood. a period that came two weeks early, if you ask me. and to top it off, you've got white jeans on. well, i do. i always seemed to have white pants on when it really mattered. shit. god help me. i am not sure that is what i wanted to say about christmas. - p.64

yeah. x-mas really is like a rag stain. thanks for clarifying that for me jann. i can relate to you. these are just a few examples-- there are better ones, but they take up too much space. at any rate, publishing your journals just because you're "famous" (are canadian "celebrities" ever really "famous" if they still live in canada?) doesn't make you a profound person or even a good writer. it just serves as a warning to the rest of us who entertain the idea that our peronal journals might be the stuff of literary genius: not likely. journaling is good. it can be the breeding ground for greatness, but generally these kinds of writings are just inane and really should stay private. i got the impression when reading this book that she wrote these journal entries with the idea that she would make them public, which makes it even more hideous. the over done inspirational bits and stupid metaphors involving menstruation, puke and "poop" are idiotic. instead of publishing a book, she should put this crap in a blog like the rest of us. . . i don't expect anyone to pay to read my inane ramblings.

ass teeth

what is with these "blog spammers" in the comments section? i'm not interested in crohn's disease, construction, or the ever popular, but totally irrelevant (to me, that is,) penis enlargement. it's kind of funny, but irritating.

i'm getting all four of my wisdom teeth extracted on sunday. it's going to hurt. i'm only doing it for the drugs, really, so they better give me something good.

slow girl

i got my period today. you have no idea how happy this makes me, even though i had no real reason to think that i wouldn't get my period. you see, now that i'm in a "healthy" relationship (and by "healthy" i mean "not like my other 'relationships'") i have to have something "bad" to obsess over, which has been manifesting as a morbid fear of pregnancy. it would ruin my life, or at least the few days of work i would miss recovering from an abortion. it's weird. this has never been a concern for me (for various reasons that i don't feel like discussing right now. i'm too high to even be writing this, i think.) anyway, m. is just about perfect. things are going swimmingly. and the sex is absolutely stunning. so yeah, i've got to create some sort of weird internal drama just to feel "normal." it's totally fucked up, but it is getting better. slowly.