03.05.06

Hey y'all. Feeling pretty damn good having self-administered the Very Best cramp reduction relief. A number of times. Then having some help. A number of times.

Am I a glutton? Or is that I've finally found someone who has a similar sexual drive?

I took my ibuprofen with a cuppa joe (plain coffee, by gad, no foofy bullshit for this barista), clutched the heating pad to my belly, and gently moaned into the night. You know what a devious beast pain can be and the cramping and general turmoil started feeling, well, hot and bothering. Thank goodness for G-Twist salvation. And free internet pron.

Whee!

A bunch of books came in; some instructional (SM101), and some informative and fun (Screw the Roses, Send Me the Thorns). Not quite sure what's happening with me, but I'm interested to see where it'll go. It's a world that's fascinated me for quite a while--oh hell, admit it woman, all my life--and that interest has also scared me. I'm taking my first, tottering steps in.

This also makes me wonder about the American inability to integrate sexuality with life. It strikes me as odd that the two areas that are viewed as outside (somehow) of day-to-day life are sex and religion. Weird, huh. We Americans have a rabid Madonna/Whore complex; a sexual person cannot be a good or trustworthy person. As if anyone who has sex (in whatever configuration) is fucking all the time. Honeychile, if we were capable of that, we'd never have left the caves.

Our sexuality is part of who we are. Whatever path we choose, it's our path. I just wish we'd all be a hell of a lot more honest about what we're looking for.

Whew. Wonder where that came from?

Went to see Ultraviolet yesterday afternoon. A big cheesy, cheese-o-phonic, cheese fest--with heart. Not true, except for the sheer cheese factor. Whoo. And funny.

Here's what was wrong with the movie; inept director was also inept writer (not always a good idea--Jim Jarmusch, yes; Kurt Wimmer, no), not one cliche missed, holes in the plot (and I use the term loosely) that you could drive a blue whale through, tons of telling and not showing, unbelievable circumstances (and my capacity for the suspension of disbelief is huge), and clunky dialogue.

Here's what's right with the movie; slick costuming, competent computer graphics, decent fight choreography, and Mila, Mila, Mila.

My favourite review so far is, "...slick, sexy, and utter crap," by Stefan Halley of Hero Realm.

Back to the 'Couv (local slang for Vancouver, WA) (I like it 'cause it sounds filthy)(I ain't right) for some television and naughtiness.

A quiet night at home. Had plans to go to a gallery opening, but zonked out on the floor with a book on my chest and the light on.

Oy. Tonight, the Holocene for some chillout time with DJ Mr. Romo.

Go. Be fabulous.

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