Sunday, January 24, 2010

And so I was thinking...

The most recent talk with the Balance has unsettled me. It makes me think about my writing online, which has fallen off over the last few months. Not from any lack of desire to write, to spill, or to tell, but something else. I feel overexposed somehow in a world of exposure. There is so much of it. Did I get my 140 characters out this hour, did I remember to update my status on Facebook, did I check it see if anyone's written on their RSS feeds, what about my messengers? Forget face-to-face human contact; it's all about the glowing pixels on the electric box and how they communicate information. And suddenly I feel shy of all that information. I want to hide away from it.

Don't know my secrets, I think to the glowing box.

No more talk about bondage, or dildos, or Korea, or work, or life, or laughter or death, or taxes. I'll be a good girl with a good public image and will be renowned for what I don't say rather than what I do. Safety in boredom, privacy in publicity of a different sort.

Where is the fun in that? I think. But then fun isn't safe and what if I can't get a JOB?

The latter question no longer bothers me, only in a random sort of way where I think of having a J.O.B. as a placeholder for all the other things I'm doing. And I'm always doing something. The wheels are always spinning in the hamster of my mind.

I'm pent up though. Words that build like magma in my mind, waiting for a thin piece of crust to spill out of, to break, explosion, release. But I keep it in, hold it back. For what? Who am I trying to protect myself from? What privacy?

I'm not a fan of resolutions as they all seem to go by the wayside. But I am a fan of words. Perhaps I like hearing myself talk, or reading myself write, or filling the interwebs with as much hot noise as I can. I want to be prolix and prolific. Unafraid.

I am standing naked and exposed on a cliff of my own making. I take a plunge. I wonder how hard I will hit when I reach the ground.

Monday, January 18, 2010

In the Future Only Porn Will Save You

It was a meeting of minds, or at least the usual suspects. The Bard in one corner, the Balance at the head of the table, and I somewhere in between. The suspects also included the Mauler in surprisingly good form. There were drinks a plenty and we had a reasonable share before finally settling in for the talks. The talks ranged all over the world and back. Mostly the talks start with my plans for next year which are many and varied and truly I have no real idea what is going on yet. Which is always a good place to be.

This somehow lead to a discussion of online privacy and net security. I started with thinking about my presentation of myself online and how this could lead to trouble with getting work or not.

“That’s just fucking ridiculous,” says the Balance.

“But…” I come back with, quick on my feet as ever.

“No, seriously, why would you care, and would you want to be hired by some company that was too concerned over whether or not you had done bukkake videos to care about your other qualifications,” the Balance finishes.

“We are getting to a point where it would be more likely that you wouldn’t hire someone if they hadn’t done porn,” adds the Bard. “Oh, I’m sorry, I see you don’t have any naked pictures online, I’m afraid we can’t hire you.”

“It makes you wonder what kind of qualifications we will need to have in a world where everyone has done porn and it’s posted online,” I expound.

Which leads us all to thinking.

“Well, like bukkake, what is bukkake exactly?” I ask.

“Bukkake would be ‘works well with others’, “ from the Bard.

“Okay so bukkake works well with others, good HR speak, so for the various sex acts we could have what kind of HR speak will be generated. How does HR break down porn?” I ask.

“What if you are only the bukkake-ee not the bukkaker?” The Bard.

“The bukkake-ee is which?” from me.

“The one receiving.” Says the Mauler.

“Uh, receptive to new ideas?” I add.

“Right, so, what about like a 69?” asks the Cowboy, who was also attending our little shindig, a three-hour drive not withstanding.

“Team player.”

“Lesbians with dildos?”

“Good with tools.”


“Understand the needs of both sides.”

Menage a trois?”

“Able to multi-task.”


“What are furries?”

“Like cosplay, they like to get it on while dressed as Donald Duck.”

“I don’t think there is anything that can make that a marketable skill.”

“Yes, yes, so we are coming to a day and age where everyone and everything will have some kind of deviated sexual experience and it will be up to management to determine whether or not you have a hireable skill,” expounds the Balance. He launches into a reenactment at this point. “So tell me what experience do you have?, Oh, prison sex? Community service, excellent.”

We contemplate the potential of new careers through our sordid sexual histories. Between the Bard and the Balance providing acceptable modifiers it turned out we were a group of extremely talented individuals, but then, we already new that. Also, apparently, most of us are good with our hands, excellent and multi-tasking, and hardworking team players.

Sunday, January 03, 2010

It's Christmas eve babe, in the drunk tank....

Actually it was a cold Christmas day after a long Christmas dinner. The Irish was hosting a Christmas party and somehow I mostly ended up catering the Christmas party; a combination of the past history of catering and not knowing most of the people at the party. The kitchen ended up being a nice safe place to hide out while doing something useful. The party was a success a combination of mulled wine, good foods, and very nice people. Overall we had a good time that was not limited to insane Christmas music and in-house karaoke.

It was decided, having consumed most of the alcohol in the house, including four bottles of homemade flavored vodka (chili, coffee, strawberry, and vanilla) we decided to take our party on the road. At first the road was the local bar that was down the street and around the corner, then somebody got the bright idea to head downtown and get the drink on for real. First to a small hotel party and then bar hopping ensued, bouncing about from the Lonely Hearts Club to the Organ Bar and finally ending up in a seedy little new dance club known as Urban. It was here that my night would mostly end.

As I recall I met some nice people on the dance floor, and several nice Korean girls who I was having a very good time dancing with. This somehow lead to me dancing with a hottie little Latina and exchanging equal parts drinks, sweat, saliva and phone numbers. While I was having a great time my friends decided now would probably be a good time to exit stage left. I turned around to discover they had gone, and tried to call to find they were heading back to the Lonely Hearts Club. I turned another way and found that the Latina I had been dancing with had also taken off so decided to head toward Lonely Hearts.

The exit to the bar is up some stairs and around a corner. I make the street and the air is cold and crisp and deadly. Several degrees had passed off while I was dancing and it was at least -10C in the winter wonderland weather. On the ground outside the bar door was a girl. The girl was wearing less then no clothing, obviously dressed for stupidity and exceeding admirably. I shake the girl and manage to get the poor bloodshot thing on her feet. She strikes me as not having been here very long; she is incoherent and freezing as I can see from the fact that she does not actually have her coat on but is trying to use it as a blanket.

"Honey, come on, let me get you to a cab."

"I want to go home."

"I know that, the cab will take you home."

"I want to go home."

"Can you tell me where you live?"

"I want to go home."

At this point I have managed to get her down the street and we are standing at a cab door. I ask her again where she lives, try to get her to tell me, but she opens the door and jumps in the cab. "Get in," she screams at me over and over. The cab driver is about to open the door and pull her out but I tell him in Korean it is okay. The girl very quickly starts to pass out in the warm car and I ask again where she lives. "No, no, no, no, no.." is all I managed to get out of her.


I realize that she is going to be unhelpful so figure the best thing I can do is drag her to the Lonely Hearts. At least she can pass out on the floor there and be warm and Hyun will keep anyone from trying to take off with her before she manages to regain her wits. The cab driver is annoyed when I change the directions, and the girl tries to stop me by yelling at the driver to go straight. I speak calmly and rationally in Korea and he decides to listen to me and makes a U-turn to take us to where we are going.

I get out at the corner and try to pull her along behind me, she finally lets go of the door I pay the cab and he drives away. Little miss crazy drunk starts going toward another cab. I ask her again where she lives but get more screaming. She opens the cab door and starts yelling at me to get in again. I tell her to just tell me what school she works at so I can at least get her toward home. I'm leaning in the cab at this point, halfway in, trying to get her to talk to me, she keeps shouting no. Finally I realize that the crazy drunk is not going to let me be helpful, and indeed is only making me a bit more crazy, however before I can take action I have a foot in my stomach and find myself on the ground, the cab speeding off as the door slams.


I fall on my finger in a way that it is sprained, I drag myself off the street feeling foolish and head to the Lonely Hearts Club to console myself with a tequila before going home.

Merry merry holidays and happy new year...