Pet. Names.

31 01 2012

I do not like to be called baby. I am not someone who needs my diaper changed or to be bottle fed. There is no need to infantilize me. I can take care of myself.

But, what about other nicknames, pet names, “terms of endearment?”

Do we all have certain ones we prefer over others? I’m sure there are some people out there who don’t mind being called “baby,” maybe those people also enjoy having others bathe and clothe them too.

The whole nickname is rather odd to me anyway. Is it supposed to be cute? I guess it’s supposed to show affection? But the thought of a person being called a “pet name” is rather disturbing to me. As if the other person is someone to put a collar on and take for a walk (and unless you’re into S&M this usually isn’t the case).

But many people have actual pets. And many people give their pets ridiculous and/ or cruel names. Why, for example, are so many people naming their animals after greek gods and goddess?

Earlier today while I was at the park a man called his beagle Zeus.



I don’t know. Maybe it’s not so bad.

Perhaps these dog owners are doing the opposite of what lovers do to each other–they’re giving their companions powerful names.

Maybe instead of cupcake or sugarplum or honey or sweetheart we can call each other:










Seems like a better way to go to me.

Please feel free to leave your own favorites in the comments below.

Face Plant.

29 01 2012

Last night I was at this art opening, and like any good art opening there was free beer. The free beer led to lots of hipsters sticking around drinking–because you know, it was free and they’re all artists and don’t make any money. Anyway, the night suddenly went from blah blah to ha ha when this tall homeless crackhead broad waltzed through the door. It really just takes one crackhead to liven the mood.

Anyway, he came over to our group and started mumbling; I really can’t recall one sentence he said that made any sense. But he stood there and he kept talking. Then I pulled the best Jenna Marbles “How to Avoid Talking to People You Don’t Want to Talk to ” face. But better because I had a prop.

I had finished my beer and was getting really bored by this guy, so I took the plastic cup and sucked it to my face. Then, I looked up at him with crazy eyes and shook what was then my two empty jazz hands all around.

He laughed.

Then he leaned over and hugged me, said, “you’re funny” and walked away.


And in my head I wasn’t even thinking I was doing the Jenna Marbles no-talk face, but I guess subconsciously I was.

In any event. My friend and I cracked up about it for like 15 minutes. Then I got another beer. And the ha ha went back to blah blah. Until we left the gallery for music.

Will play that plastic-cup-face card in the future for sure.

Free Writing: Surrounded By Horses.

28 01 2012

Yawn the heart shaped box won’t open for Courtney or you or me, super glued like a maxipad to a jr. high locker room high alert like a too short skirt and some very horny dudes who got the blues. Why do they care about women’s underwear? A little skin. Some freckles to bare. Fortunes on the floor. Not believed. Un believed. Unbelievable. Why a cookie would know anything is quite absurd. Wire mouth shut in silent groans of menacing pleasure claws scrape against drywall to protect the back of the nameless gentleman. A scholar in his own right, but never right around me. As in wrong, not off. Though he gets off way more than me. I’m denying myself pleasure because I’m a masochist. I also like power. I need to find my own kink. What gets me off. I should really just go for it, whatever I’m thinking. Why the passivity? I need sex all the time, to ease my mind. Orgasmic minds think alike on beaches of broken dreams pain in power powerful pain ecstasy escaping lounging on a cloud of back-breaking sweaty Mexicans with scars on their abdomens and cigars half smoked laying on truck beds. There isn’t beauty in the break-down but the re-building. The realizations. The consternations. The interweaving fabrics of lies and make-believe. My knuckle with marks from a night of belligerent farts choices are like whispers said in the dark; secrets shared with no one, you’re all alone with your choices. Like Patti Smith’s horses. Wild or tame, either way, you make them every second of the day. And no, there are not erasers. And no, you can’t turn back. And no, you deserve to be alone. Because you don’t even know who you are so why should anybody else? There are never cries for help when the heart shape box comes undone. There are never cries for help when sad songs go unsung. There are never cries for help. There are never cries.

You Say Either, I Say Either: Why Our Generation Could Never Have a When Harry Met Sally.

27 01 2012

We all know the scene where Harry tells Sally that men and women can never be friends. Just friends. Because the sex part always gets in the way.

But. Could we argue today, that with all the gender deconstruction, the openness to pansexuality, bisexuality, homosexuality, that technically, no one could be “just” friends because the sex part always gets in the way? The argument being if you’re friends with someone you have to be attracted to them on some level. And eventually that attraction might lead to some sort of physical intimacy. And that physical intimacy could eventually lead to awkwardness and then the end of the friendship.

If that’s the theory than we couldn’t have any friends.


Or we could all be friends. And not let sex be the deciding factor in determining who we want to spend a majority of our time with.

I just started reading Sex at Dawn: The Prehistoric Origins of Modern Sexuality, which is basically an argument against human monogamy as “the only way.”

Now, I’m only like 100 pages in and know little about the authors and their expertise, but I am fascinated by the concepts of egalitarianism. For example, if we were more of a sharing culture, like humans were when they were nomads or our relative the bonobos (pygmy chimps) are now, we’d be a much calmer, happier bunch. Theoretically. There would be less territorial fighting, less possessiveness, more caring, more thoughtfulness, more clan-like collective development of children so they could survive and thrive easier. And more sex.

So. Are we getting to a point in our society where we can ditch old concepts of monogamy, and become more of a collective sharing community? A place where we are all friends; friends who may or may not have intimate physical relationships with each other? Or is it still too much?

What’s wrong with friends with benefits within a community?

Not just random people from bars or online dating. But like a tribe. A Clan. Like whatever clique you’re in now, why can’t it just be lots of friends with lots of benefits? Not just sexual. But the deeper connections, the sharing of ups and downs, etc. Why does sex often mess things up?

Are we still stuck in this deep-rooted puritanical individualist capitalist consumer culture where we feel ownership over another person? Particularly after that person shares sexy time? As if sexy time demands more seriousness than say a deep conversation over Foucault and the institutionalization of learning or whatever. Why don’t we get possessive over that?

“Johnny! Johnny! Were you just talking to Patty about cyborg feminism? I thought you only talked to ME about cyborg feminism? How dare you!!!! I will NO LONGER have any sort of meaningful conversation with you from NOW on.”


I don’t know. I feel like I could go on and on about this topic. So I’m just going to stop for today. Feel free to comment below or email me privately to discuss.

My 5 Favorite Things Right Now.

26 01 2012

And They’re Vegan, Wohoo!

Alright. So, I’m not much for capitalism. But we live in it and sometimes we have to buy stuff. Here are some of my favorite things to buy right now.

1) Vegan Queso

I wanted to write this blog mainly to talk about vegan queso made by a company called Food For Lovers. I knew nothing about it until Spencer’s Market offered it as a deal (they sell discounted produce). Anyway, this stuff has no fat, no soy, no nuts, no dairy, no cholesterol.

Imitation cheese without even any fat!

Most people would probably imagine it tasting like dry dog food, but I’m telling you all it’s delicious. Maybe it’s because I haven’t had cheese in so long, but I don’t think that’s it. I think even cheese lovers would enjoy eating this.

It’s junk food without ALL the junk.

I love being vegan.

(While drunk I fried up a potato and dumped queso on it (cuz I was out of chips) soooo freaking good!)

2) Sir Richard’s Condoms

Speaking of vegan. If you’re one to go out and have protected safer sex, Sir Richard’s condoms are best. Not only do they contain no casein (a milk protein) but for every condom you buy they donate one to a developing country. So people all around the world can have fun and be STD-free too! They also recently developed a mail-order system, where you can have as many Sir Richard’s Condoms delivered to your door every month as you (think you) need. How convenient. How sexy.

3) Dr. Bronner’s Magic Soap

I know all of you hippies have been using this soap for years, but I just got turned onto it a couple of months ago. And it really is magic. Fair-trade, never tested on animals, vegan, contained in a recycled bottled. I have the lavender scent and I like to follow the tip on the bottle and dump a bit on a hot towel and just lay it over my face. It feels (and smells) so good.

I saw there was a documentary on this soap company available on netflix, has anyone watched it? Is it worth it? Feel a little lame watching a documentary about soap…but perhaps it’s better than it sounds? 

4) Eco-Lips Bee Free Chapstick

Most chapstick is made with beeswax, and yo homedogs the bees are in some trouble. No point in adding to the issue when bee-free chapstick exists.


5) PBR

I love being kind to my environment, but sometimes a girl just has to get her drink on. And when I do, it’s usually with a good reliable Pabst Blue Ribbon. Yeah, maybe it’s the beer of choice for every-day hipsters, but even though they may not have good taste in eyewear (I mean seriously, what’s up with those glasses), they have good taste in cheap beer.

Working to Get Off.

26 01 2012

My friend recently introduced me to the term procrasturbation. That is, instead of doing what you need to do, homework, cover letters, blog writing etc., you procrastinate by masturbating instead. I guess this is a common practice, which is actually quite relieving. I thought I was just a big pervert who would rather orgasm than deal with reality. Good to know, most people would rather orgasm than deal with reality. Reality can be really rough sometimes. And not rough like pulling hair, biting, clawing rough, but like mundane and full of things we have to do but don’t really care to, like ugh, writing cover letters. The death of writing is a cover letter. I understand their purpose, but it doesn’t make them any easier to write. Maybe I just need to expand my narcissism, perhaps I should practice by writing a cover letter for Art School–the breeding ground for narcissists.

Now, I’m in no way implying that narcissism is the root of all evil on this planet–only that if I could have a little more self-love. There is a healthy narcissism people can have that puts value on confidence, charm, sexiness and power. I’d be okay with that.

Which is why I’m thinking Art School.


More procrasturbation.

Procrasturbation would be cheaper and less waste of my time, thus, it wins.

Yay to whoever invented the “personal massager,” (although if I remember correctly it was a doctor trying to help “hysterical women” there could be some good feminist theory in that somewhere–I’m sure it’s been done.)

5 Random Thoughts: Female Sexuality, Periods, Crip Theory (and more).

24 01 2012

1) In many of my writing classes they talk about how when you write a paragraph in and then later decide to take it out somehow those ideas are still left in readers subconscious, like the aura of the idea. Lately when writing emails to people I don’t like, I’ve been signing off “fuck off and die” then going back and erasing it. I’m wondering if the aura of “fuck off and die” is resonating with the reader. I sure hope so.

2) I have a theory that Serena van der Woodson (Blake Lively), the main character in the magnetic Gossip Girl television series, is portraying the symbol of female sexuality. In every episode the other characters try to suppress her, and tell her how slutty and bad she is for liking men. Her mother even locks her in a mental institution without even giving her a chance to speak for herself. If it was still in grad school I’d totally write a paper about this.

3) I realized while going on a few OK Cupid dates (yes they some times actually happen) that I have a problem with wanting guys to be exactly how I want them to be–more like me, ha. That’s a little vague but let me elaborate. One particular guy that I like has no real forks, spoons, or glasses instead it’s all “disposable” plastic. This drives my environmentally-friendly mind insane. I want to go to goodwill and buy him some kitchenware. But I have to take a step back; I’m not his girlfriend, his mother, his maid. I’m not there to domesticate him, I’m there to just hang out and have fun. This is really hard for me. I want to step in and “fix” it. But I have to learn to let people be who they are and maybe with a little soft persuasion over time, he’ll realize the error in his ways without me being Ms. Fix-Him-Uper.

4)  I went to this art lecture the other night at Illiterate Gallery here in Denver. Six artists talked on a range of topics from typography to hidden mothers in old photographs. They brought up many interesting ideas. One speaker discussed crip theory, which is a way of examining disability through a queer lens. I was a little confused about the “super-able body,” the difference between crip theory and cyborg theory and if they were connected or totally different ideas. Is the “super-able body,” supposed to be a representative of queer—a person who symbolically breaks the binary construction of what it is to be human? Sort of like how the cyborg is intertwined with both the natural and technological world creating an intersectionality between the two that can’t be broken, thus working to to deconstruct as well as re-construct what it means to be human.  Either way I plan to learn more (if you have any suggested reading please comment!).

Love her (part of Krip-Hop Nation):

5) That song’s catchy. Makes me want to go read Cunt again. There’s this section in Cunt about cycling with the moon. Now that I’m off birth control I’m going to attempt to become a moon goddess. Maybe I’ll even get super hippy and paint abstracts with my menstrual blood. Probably not. Last night I was watching 30 Rock and Liz Lemon said she liked to keep her tampons in the refrigerator. I’m totally going to try that this month because it’s so freaking ridiculous. Though, when I run out of this box I’m going to buy one of those divacup things– me being environmentally-friendly and all. (I’ll let you know how it works out for me.)


22 01 2012



Thanks KK. HairCut Queen. What a makeover. I mean look how SAD I was prior to the haircut cuz there was hair all over my head. And now it’s like asymmetrical madness just like my personality.

Also… check out THE HAIRCUT:

My new favorite Denver band.

Drunk Ambition.

21 01 2012

Does anyone else get this strange sort of over-enthusisam about over-achieving after drinking too many beers?

For example, last night I was at the Post Pony Palace watching youtube videos with some badass people and the more I drank the more I was like, “I can totally do this shit. Why am I not  making youtube videos?”

More drinks.

“Fuck it… tomorrow. Making youtube video.”

Obviously it’s “tomorrow” and I’m not making a video. But I should be.

Because I’m not doing any thing else. And some acts should be followed less than others.

Take ICP for instance.

Two white dudes some how created this weird cult following by making misogynist murderous drug-laced rap songs.

They make tons of money and have people tattoo their stupid clown faces on their bodies.

Surely I can compete with this?

Or take Earl Sweatshirt.

Again. Rapping. Drug use. Blood. Drama.

Tons of online followers. A Free-Earl campaign. The story goes that he got shipped away to boarding school because of the rampant drug-use in his videos and now his legal guardian will not allow his new music to be released. No one is certain if he’ll even come-back and re-join the group (Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All). This is perhaps one of the greatest publicity stunts of record-deal history…(yet to be determined). But it all started by making low-quality-production youtube videos.

Speaking of quality.

My favorite… Jenna Marbles.

Simple concept. Weekly social commentary videos that are hilarious because they’re rooted in truth and point out the ridiculousness of those truths.

This is something I could do.

But she does it.

So I need to find my own shtick!

I’m thinking some sort of Jenna Marbles/ Garfunkel & Oats combo but with costumes and “found” instruments.

I am telling you all right now that this is really going to happen. I’m going to work on the concept this week. And have the first one to you all by next Saturday.



Because I should be doing something. And not just drinking and thinking “I could do that”– because I can do it–and I will do it.

(Maybe I’ll just film myself drinking? I know I could accomplish that…)

Free. Writing.

20 01 2012

Word balloon carrying a tune that isn’t quite distinguishable to the ears like a dog gone wild in a forest of forgotten dreams like a bad movie come to life with unedited scenes a disappointing fart almost silent not close to deadly unlike breakups and too many bottles of booze mixing the two is a toxic combination a reiteration of self destruction unlike any other people do what’s the matter with you have you no soul no control no ability to make it on your own quit talking to me can’t you see you’re making me bleed internally so not really just dramatically with words which is just as bad if you ask me celebrate time alone close to a stereo and music meant for lonely hearts and anxious over-caffeinated trolls with hair sticking up and out never combed they’re just words you say words with meaning without but my life was like a purse you turned inside out spilling everything all over the ground then throwing the purse away contents in disarray no place to go no one to go to no longer a home and how can it be where your heart is when your heart gets squashed along the way when your heart gets thrown away it’s not just sweat to me but proof that I did something bigger than me that I got out there and ran all over you park ground city life mirror shining bright reflections of room never used utilize tenors and bass and high pitch races of minor distractions and major reactions like a drama turned comedy in the bar of some basement travesty a pigeon on the tip of my tongue undone like a board erased there was a time for fun but no longer sunshine fades and the grass grows dead the milkman never comes the tits are dried up wrinkled drooping bags of old silk freckles tickled to death and everyone laughs like it’s some kind of game like life is just one big comedy but what’s the joke supposed to be I don’t smile at your stupidity particularly if you’re on the same road as me particularly when I see what I see which isn’t very pretty not usually the clock ticks forcefully but I just glare and my head starts to pound at the lack of despair at too much to bear at the shear magnitude of nothing nothing not a thing no is there a leash dragging you around collared neck popped collar charmer not like a rapist more like a scholar no need to read books though you’ve made it this far intelligently designed rhymes that turn in your head like meteors flying at the speed of light however fast that is and there is crying when the light turns red because stopping is sort of like being dead and people can’t handle the cycle because there is pain involved and comfort is a charm we hold tight like cacti to the sun so many people flying away never escaping but smiling all the same