I’m Badder Than You

Dear Friendster Friends:

Sorry the last entry was so canterkerous. I really am in my thirties now, huh?

Some interesting articles I’ve ran across:

"Surgeries Go To New Lengths To Avoid Scarring," which includes them "removing gall bladders through the vagina."

Key quotations from this article:

"They have even removed brain tumors the size of baseballs through the
nose, nibbling at them and withdrawing pieces the size of popcorn
kernels.

"The key to operating through body openings is specialized slender instruments that can be inserted into the natural channels

"With the natural-opening surgery, the theoretical hope is that ‘they really can go back to work the next day.’ "

And…

"U.S. Used ‘Comfort Women’ after WWII"

Key Quotations:

"The strategy was, through the special work of experienced women, to create a breakwater to protect regular women and girls.

"The only suitable facility was a dormitory for single police officers,
which they quickly converted into a brothel. Bedding from the navy was
brought in, along with 20 comfort women.

"As expected, after it opened it was elbow to elbow," the history says.
"The comfort women … had some resistance to selling themselves to men
who just yesterday were the enemy, and because of differences in
language and race, there were a great deal of apprehensions at first.
But they were paid highly, and they gradually came to accept their work
peacefully."

———————————————-
Here’s my two cents:

I’m sure nobody but my gynie really cares about what the inside of my vagina looks like, so if they have to go through there with a "slender instrument," that reminds me of a guy named Evan I picked up, drunk as hell, when I was 19 at a bar. His "instrument" reminded more of a pinky finger, but I digress…

I wonder when they’re doing surgery using a ‘natural opening,’ they’d be like, "oh, we don’t have use that metallic arm that’s 1/100th of its regular size for Jennifer’s vagina. We’ll just use this here 2 x 4 pipe fitting.

As for the comfort women, these biznitches are getting paid $17,800 to come and admit, now that they’re mostly in their 80’s, that they were fucked by a bunch of American GI’s. Okay, not a proud moment in history, and I’m sure a lot of these women are either dead or too senile to realize that they could get some loot from some sex they had back in the day, but they have very few women coming forward to collect their money. Hello?

All I have to prove from that gaggle of men I slept with in college is an embarrassing trip to the Health Center, hungover the next day, for some antibiotics, and my name written with some Magic Marker on the bathroom stall for "a good time." Where’s my stipend?

Dear Friendster Public,

I know, I know. It’s been quite a while since you’ve read one of my rants. Don’t worry, I’ve been saving up quite a few thoughts and it’s about damn time I kept up littering the Internet with inane ramblings like every other Tom, Dick and Harry. Balls.

So, living in Berkeley, I’ve succumbed to the idea that you should recycle your things. Not just biodegrable things or things that are "done." Oh no, you should recycle your THINGS when you’re done using them, but they’re not DONE. Get it?

My rollerblades are case in point. They were hand-me-downs to begin with and they were always a mite small, so I figured, "you know there’s gotta be some woman, (or effeminite male), who would like a pair of 7.5 sized rollerblades to go get some granola with." So I posted this on Craig’s List.

Almost immediately, (which is typical for Craig’s List, esp. the "free" section), I get a myriad of reponses that usually include "When can I pick this up?" and "Thanks so much!" This is, after all, free shit I’m giving away.

My policy is that it’s first come, first served. That statement is just so…true. When you come first, you will get served first. I always let a second person respond as the ‘backup’ recipent, then take the ad down because I don’t want to have to tell 13 people that I don’t have the "free" thing anymore. This system works very well, I found, because ultimately, 90% the first person does not come through.

I’m not sure why that percentage is so high, but again, this is Craig’s List, the Bay Area and the "free" column, so the incentive to come and get their free item can be very low. Fair enough.

Well, back to the Rollerblades. I had originally advertised them last Friday, a week ago, and just like clockwork, 10 minutes after the post, the first response came in.

I'm interested in these, where are they?

Thanks,-:ankur

The first thing I noticed was the signature. Now, I’m all for originality and I, too, have my own way of electronically signing off….but what is this?  A sideways face that’s constipated? Okay. Fair enough.

Jennifer Justice wrote:> near ashby/san pablo. if you can pick them up today,> I'll leave the on the front porch.

Hm, I won't be able to make it there today...  do you ever come close to the UC campus?  Else I can try to get down there this weekend sometime.

Thanks,-:ankur

Second offense: asking me to drop the skates off. Remember, I’m giving something for free, and yes, "downtown Berkeley" is not that far away, but the truth is, unless I specified that I was going in that direction, I think it’s in bad taste to ask for the charitable party to do some driving around while they’re at it.

> When can you pick these up?

Sorry, I thought I'd have been able to get a ride this weekend, but that didn't work out.  Is there any time you come to the downtown Berkeley area?  Otherwise I'll bike down there...  I can't make it today, I could try tomorrow morning.-:ankur

Third offense: asking me again if I could drop these off. Jesus, I guess this is why you’re so hot to get these. You’re completely immobile?  Still, this is after two days of not hearing anything.

> Can we set a definite time so I can set them outside> for you?

Wednesday 11am?

-:ankur

That email was me just trying to set a time up so I could just effeciently get ride of these fucking skates. I hate to admit it, but crime is fairly rampant in my ‘hood and I’d hate to have someone make the half a mile trip to my house, (because I’m nice like that), just to find out their "free skates" are now some new birthday gift for a ghetto rat.

Thanks.  I have to be somewhere at noon, but I will be by before evening to get them.  Sorry I've been a hassle,

-:ankur

This email was the first time I’ve heard this person acknowledge that they’ve "been a hassle." A tiny ray of hope shone down on me. I will be getting rid of these purple/black/neon blue contraptions that one straps to their feet. For enjoyment.

Huh.  I was on the other side of San Pablo.  I'm actually headed to NYC for a wedding this weekend [ now! ], so I won't be around til Tuesday... If you wanted to get rid of them soon, and know someone else who'll take them, you can go ahead and give it to them, else I'll come by to get it when I come back.  Sorry about this,-:ankur

This was from the Friday, exactly one week later after "Ankur" first answered the ad. I still currently have the skates, in a Trader Joe’s bag, waiting to be picked up. Maybe "aprilmayplay4you," my backup lady, is interested. Stay tuned for the next episode.

Thanks Craig’s List for fulfilling the 90% bullshit/flaking prophecy!

Hey Folks,

So, I turned 30 last week. Yep. 30. No longer a 20-something. Can’t just fall-down-drunk-and-wake-up-pregnant every other weekend  because I did too many tequila shooters. Can’t say stupid shit and hope I’ll have years to repent for it. No, Friendster public, I am now fully responsible for my actions and reactions. If I get pregnant, I will know who the father is and I will tell him as soon as possible. And then I will promptly sue Jose Cuervo for child payments.

I have had an extremely eventful summer…I did a lot of travelling with my boyfriend, (he’s the outdoorsy type and I’m an innie person and innie belly button), who likes to drag my artsy ass all over the god-forsaken woods and have sex in tents. Does this count as a fetish?

We first went to Yosemite…I made it halfway up Half Dome, (appropriately titled in my opinion),  before my right bum knee decided it had had about enough f-king hiking for the rest of the year, (Half Dome is an eighteen mile hike that is pretty freaking steep in some places, esp. when you need cables towards the end to get you up the side of the mountain), did some yodeling, lots of drinking and made new friends with a SoCal couple that was mildly amused at watching drunk Danish people sing songs around a campfire. Me? I just record the stories.

Then we had this 10-day sojurn with his brother, Hans, who was visiting from Denmark. Lots of good times followed…we first went down to LA to watch the World Cup with a bunch of frothing-at-the-mouth Italians, (thank God they won), then we made it over to Lake Havasu, AZ, where we did some jet-skiing and hung like white trash, doing nitrous all night long and skinny dipping in the lake.

Next up was the Grand Canyon. Yes, the Grand Goddamned Canyon. If you read the previous paragraph of how my bum knee wasn’t too hot on Half Dome, you can understand how excited it was when we hiked 10 miles into the heart of the canyon, (duration going down 9.1 miles: 7 hours), and stayed at Phantom Ranch for a night, then hiked right back up the next day, (duration going up 6.5 miles: 8 hours), in JULY, with FULL SUNSHINE beating down on us. It was seriously painful of biblical proportions. Anyway, I did it and by the end, I was so dehydrated and exausted, I was having some hallucinations. Like, Native American style, but without the peyote.

Next up was Moab, Utah, where we camped some more and rode ATV’s through the desert. I promptly got too big for my britches and ended up taking a spill with my ATV almost rolling right on top of me, but those four years of kenpo karate came in handy as I rolled out of the way with just a mere scrape on my elbow to share. Hyah!

Lastly, we made it on over to Las Vegas and almost made several bad decisions in a row, but were able to walk away with most of our dignity and underwear intact. Calories consumed: 1 million. I will say for the record that brother Hans and I spent the night in the Las Vegas ER while my boyfriend got his foot x-rayed and stiched up because he stepped on a metal prong that went straight through his foot. Yeah. And it was 125 degrees Farenheit. No joke about that one. Sweat mingling with blood in front of the Venetian is how I like to spell out a good time.

After that was a trip to Chicago for Lollapalooza! 3 full days of bands, including my friend’s band whom I came to support, Manishevitz.  I thought the Raconteurs, Violent Femmes and Matisyahu were amongst the top acts that I saw, but there was a lot of music that I didn’t see, because they schedule them at 5 consecutive stages so there aren’t popularity contests going on.

Hung with my parents and friends o’ Chicago, (mad props out to Dr. Najah for putting Morten and I up), and even did a Coppertone spoof photo shoot, replete with Morten as the dog pulling down my panties with his teeth at Montrose Beach, compliments of the talented Audrey Cho.

After that, I headed off to Ixtapa, Mexico for a week-long gig singing @ Club Med with my posse. It was fun up until I had some severe intestinal cramping from some bacteria that I ingested that required me to be seen by the Mexican doctor who slapped my ass to distract me from the 6 inch needle she jammed in it to reduce the pain. Then I got Cipro for a week. Mmm…Cipro! It was truly gorgeous down there, though, and you can view photos from some of my attending guests here.

For my 30th b-day, Morten, me and 13 other people went canoeing down the Russian River and then had a phat meal at Kan Zaman in the Haight, filled with loud beating drums, belly dancers and hookah pipes at tables. Hurrah, life!

Hey Friendly People,

I just had another awesome comedy showcase in my backyard with some really funny people. So funny, in fact, that cops showed up! Yeah, they wanted to arrest me for "disordely conduct" and "public drunkeness," but I said, "Hey, coppers! Go fuck yourself!" over the mic and the crowd loved it!

Okay, actually, a cop did show up towards the end, but it was because they had recieved a complaint that the party was "too rowdy," but he was cool with everything he saw. In fact, so cool that he made the joke, "I should give you a noise citation, but the only citation that I’m gonna give is for whoever is drinking the Mickey’s! You don’t drink that outside of high school!" Ha! who says having a stressful, underpaid job while wearing a heavy, bulletproof vest doesn’t make you the next Jack Benny?

Also, I have two clips up from the past two 50 Mason shows on Rooftop Comedy. Feel free to browse and rate the clips because I have a chance of winning…okay, brace yourselves,…$250, for the most watched and highest rated. At any rate, money is money and I ain’t complainin’ when this mouth that used to get me in trouble, (and I mean trouble in every sense of the word), gets me some moolah. And this mouth doesn’t get thrush like the hookers who give alleyway b.j.’s do.

Dear Friendly Friends,

I feel completely not myself…I have my mom visiting me for a week, which usually reduces me down to a whiny, incompatible idiot, (or so she says), but I’m on my own turf, so I am surrounded by things that tell me that I’m cool and that people like me. Like the used beer bottles strewn around my lawn and recycling bin from the party last Saturday night. Hm.

I was just reading this interesting article on these Asian people who write books to try and "teach" whities how to "learn like an Asian." As they point out, it’s not that they’re genetically smarter, it’s just that Asian parents have no sympathy towards kids who don’t want to devote all their time to being bookish and an overacheiever. You know, instead of trying to keep up with the Jonses, it’s keeping up with the Yus?

Then I was also reading about the "excess" that kids go through today to celebrate the hedonism formally known as prom. All’s I know is that I asked both my junior and senior prom date out by myself, (none of this "pre-wedding" grandeur of spelling it out on the jumbotron, or whatever), and  yes, I did expect them to give me head.

We then indulged in what every other prom couple does…getting dressed up, riding in a limo to a restaurant where they don’t undertsand you have to be 21 to get drinks, (usually this was the one-star Pakastani joint on the outskirts of town), getting drunk, puking, taking the limo to party, puking some more, dancing to the last two songs, (one which has to be "Oh, What A Night!"),  leaving in the limo and then screwing at my date’s house under the ping-pong table while the dog watches. Didn’t everybody do this?

Dear Friends:

The first comedy showcase of the season was awesome, thanks for asking…everyone who performed, (including myself), kicked so much ass. And the audience was really cool, too. Next one is Saturday, June 3rd. Tattoo it on your right hand and then masturbate with that hand. I’d be honored.

I’m now going to promote the fundraiser I’m playing accordion in this Friday, May 19th at ProArts Gallery to benefit BACH and Ghetto Gourmet. Basically, for $60 you get an awesome meal that is based around the music you hear us perform. For instance, I’m playing Balkan melodies on my squeezebox, so you will get a chopped off head of ram with a duck’s heart jammed in its mouth. Or whatever Balkan people eat. Read more about it here. All’s I know is that you will love everything about this evening…the music, the sounds, the eats, the people, the art. All for $60. Couples are $100. You try and find *those* types-of prices on Craig’s List for couples! I dare you!

Hi Adoring Public,

I’m sorry I’ve been AWOL…I have been busy with my so-called life which has included: a) dating someone who I have had the least amount of drama with in my whole life. No, he’s not my blow-up doll with attachable dildo. b) organizing comedy showcases in my backyard, one of which I hope you can make, if you live in the Bay Area. It has caught the attention of the East Bay Express and Contra Costa Times, so I’m excited about that. Getting mad props, again, thanks to the blonde hair and not just blowjobs! and c) takin’ what their givin’ cuz I’m working for a livin’. (i.e.–it’s the end of the school year for the kiddies I teach, so, it’s the big push for the recital, then we all breath a sigh of relief and share a cigarette behind the teacher’s lounge).

Honestly, I’m just really normal right now. I’m not sure if that’s good, or what, but I try not to disturb these things when they hit because I find they can be temporary.

I’m at 50 Mason again on Friday, May 26th, if you care to come see me in the nighttime for $10. But why do that when you can show up for *free* in my backyard, and see other kick-ass comedians?  For instance, this Saturday, May 13, we have Eric Peterson hosting, myself, Christine Parker, Ross Turner and a very special guest who’s initals are B.W., but he doesn’t want me to pimp him out just yet. I get to talk about him after tomorrow’s show. He’s extremely funny, though and usually you pay big bucks to see him in a club, so bless his little heart for gracing my humble backyard stage!

Anyhoo,  I’m having a British Invasion party on Saturday, May 20th…the day before Bay To Breakers, so I’m gonna have a grand ole’ time, making Coronation Chicken and Spotted Dick whilst drinking warm lager. Yeah. Come with some antacid is all I have to say about that!

I gotta thank Sean Axmaker for not only having a bad-ass name that truly rivals my own, but for writing a keen decscription of who I really am. I mean, he probably didn’t realize how specific he was really referencing me, but Mr. Axmaker was writing an article decribing delicious femme fatales of the silver screen, and I couldn’t help but think to myself, "Gee! That’s me!"

"Down the mean streets of crime movies walk the tarnished urban knights. They
wear business suits of soiled armor and follow a long-corrupted chivalry, if any
at all. Some of them search for damsels in distress — sometimes to save them,
sometimes merely to comfort with masculine manners and lusty desires — before
they set off on another scheme or scam or joust with another hungry hustler. But
often the damsels themselves are more dangerous. Their feminine wiles and
feigned fragilities are simply masks for a dame deadlier than the man: the femme
fatale.

A true femme fatale is no mere bad woman. Anyone can be bad. The femme fatale
is wickedness as high art, beauty carved out of arsenic. She’s a devil in
stilettos and a skirt (preferably slit all the way up her long, gorgeous gams),
a siren who uses sex to lure men to their doom. She has larceny in her heart,
murder in her soul and a fortune in her eye.

Her patsy is the corruptible cop, the bored businessman, the weak husband
with wandering eyes and curious hands, the morally flexible lawyer and the
private eye. She comes on like a kitten, cuddling and toying with her prey
before drawing blood; behind her kittenish purr and womanly curves growls a
man-eating lioness."

Grrrrrowl! All in a day’s work for me, (sigh). What’s this conniving, manipulative fuck-toy going to do in her spare time, anyhow? Make stained glass crosses to hang next to my flower pots?

Hey all,

For those who couldn’t make the Lobsters show, photos are now up to relive the fun and magic that was created by a whole team of people here.

There are a bunch of photos, though, so if I may direct you to the ones that I’m in, (yes, I’m a self-centered actor! Hello? ), here’s a blow by blow commentary of was’sup with "Killing My Lobster Takes A Cruise."

1) Me as Cap’n Nemo.

2) What I’m going to look like when I’m an old lady with a purple jacket, playing bingo.

3) Doing "pirates," intead of pilates. (get it? har dee har…)

4) Yup, our instructor had a peg leg.

5) Why can’t I keep my leg straight?

6) Nicole as a chair and me as a lamp…we’re stowaways on a ship!

7) Even wonder what I’d look like as a redhead? Well, here I am, singing Euro Man!

We were creating the ship’s power by doing Dance Dance Revolution. Yup, I love what I do and I love those blue spandex pants!

9) You see my wrist as I play the violin, ("My Heart Will Go On"), in this "King Of The World" skit.

10) Though not visible, I am the puppet’s voice behind the porthole with a microphone, saying my tag line: "Shit In My Mouth!"

11) Yep, I’m a bunny. Yep, I like to fuck.

12) Here I am as Anna Nicole Smith, trying to (wrongly) resuscitate a child who was drowning in the pool. Except I was part of the reality TV show called "Crunch’d."

13) Gosh darn, these white pants during the finale make me look huge!

14) Being part of a ship. Then dancing away from the ship formation so I was holding a giant fork, (for the buffet, natch!), just in time to scream "margaritas!" while I limboed underneath it!

15) Looking way too serious during the finale as we danced and sang about how you need to stuff your fat American face with as much as food as possible whilst aboard a ship!

16) Our closing ceremony to the theatre gods at the end of the show for ourselves, by ourselves.

17) We were told to "point somewhere," then "somewhere else," then "for god’s sake, people…point somewhere else!" (p.s.–John Dixon, the director, is the bald cutie in the middle of the photo next to me and Jenn Gargliano, the stage manager, next to him in the black shirt and the band members are the ones in the Hawaiian shirts. Paul Charney [producer] is the front row, dark shirt with the A’s hat on and Marc Vogl [producer] is the back row, center, with yellow shirt on).

Thanks to everyone who came out and saw me perform with the Lobsters! It was an awesome experience and I have to say, performing for 350 people last Friday night was incredibly surreal…every mildly funny lines caused the actors to wait about five seconds before we went on because the audience was just laughing their asses off. And actual punchlines? Forget it! We had to wait a full twelve to fifteen seconds for the laughter to die down. Kinda like the college entrance boards when they took a look at my SAT scores, years ago.

The whole experience was rad. People loved when I said "shit in my mouth" as the lamb puppet—props to Wolanske for writing me that role-for-a-lifetime—and KML got write-ups in the Contra Costa Times and the SF Chronicle with the back of my head is prominently featured in San Francisco magazine. Thank God I’m recognizable with this hair…how else would my fans recognize me? (Funny story about that was that I was having drinks at Pop’s after a show, and the back of my head *was* the only thing visible from the street and a gaggle of girls came and personally thanked me for a "hilarious" performance. I knew this blonde hair, not blowjobs, was gonna get me far!).

I’ve got a stand-up show tomorrow night at 50 Mason. Feeling a little rusty, though. Gonna use the same old, same old bag o’ tricks as I did last month, so for the die-hard fans who are recording each show, (kinda like making bootleg Phish tapes), my apologies in advance. Just haven’t had time to crank out some new jokes, but maybe I’ll get some fresh blood in the club to yuk it up and sing along with the song that stole the show: Africa Man. Just kidding, it’s called China Boy. No….Antartica Chick? Wait….

Also, I’m back working with Killing My Lobster for the upcoming Noise Pop Festival, (an indie musical festival featuring The Flaming Lips and other cool shit at various venues for a whole week.) We perform just a smattering of funny-ass sketches, and I’m going to try out my hand with a new skit that I’m working on. We’re performing March 28th and 30th Thee Parkside. More about the schedule and stuff here.

Just busy, busy, busy. And happy, happy, happy. Have a great, great day!