umm.... where was i going with this???
oh yes, i may not look the type...but i actually used to live in a brownstone on 28th street between 2nd & 3rd ave in NYC that had previously been a brothel..... and that house was outfitted with several stripper poles. (not to mention a lucite 'cage'/room, pimped out bathrooms that made tony's sense of decor in scarface look tasteful, a bar in every room, and countless other accoutrements that martha stewart & laura ashley NEVER would have thought to consider.... but really become indispensible once you are used to them.
now back to the poles. i really can't stress enough how much fun one can have on a stripper pole. don't misunderstand me here, at no point do i ever recall writhing across the living room floor as entertainment for my room mates; clad in cheap pvc boots & a bedazzled g-string that had seen better 'show days' & chipped fingernail polish (please refer back to my long winded bit about a preppy east coast 'summer at the SHORE' ethos: one would sooner lose one's fingers than tolerate chipped nail polish!)
no... at my skimpiest i was maybe wearing boxers & a wife beater... for us the pole was not about titillating gyrations & slutty 'come hither' looks through the fog machine. it was about running full speed ahead, the entire length of the house & literally swinging like a monkey from one pole to the next. you know, they rotate- so if you time it right you can project yourself absurd distances.
oh yes... the fun we had. the horror we instilled in newcomers to our 'happy home' as conversations would suddenly die & all attention would become focused on the perfection of some new 'trick.'
the injuries sustained in that place were astounding. i never quite perfected my 'back walk over' dismount while hanging upside down from the pole- in fact i nearly snapped my neck on several occasions (and for the record....i HAD to get some pvc boots for that one: man does not hang upside down on skin alone.... but they were tasteful & picked out for me by vivien westwood herself...they in NO WAY resembled those gaud awful 'herman munster in drag' atrocities favored by women of the flesh for some completely unknown reason)
i think every house should have a stripper pole. they are loads of fun, great exercise, an excellent way to get from room to room if you have phobias about touching the floor or have just mopped.... the list goes on.
not to mention that when you have a house full of strippers snorting blow off your coffee table it makes them feel more at home & therefore more likely to blow you later on. plus, they always have the funniest 'war stories' to share & generally lack the tact & decorum to keep them private. MEOW!!!!!!! sorry girls, i honestly have NOTHING against strippers & have been good friends with many a loin limber lady - but stereotypes come about for a reason.... and it has been a rare (yet delightful) occassion that i have encountered a 'dancer' who really truly had her shit together & an i.q. that hovered somewhere noticibly above the best brazillian wax in town.
anyway: i fully encourage one and all to get a stripper pole
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
umm.... where was i going with this???
Monday, February 16, 2004
i spent the entire trip yapping away to myself (being careful not to make it COMPLETELY obvious to passing traffic), humming everything from g.g. allin to nursery rhymes, tried to teach myself to whistle (no luck...i think i sucked my thumb too long as a kid) & spent as much time riding with my eyes closed as i deemed safe. i apologized to every worm that lost it's life beneath my tires, got my pant leg caught in the chain 3 different times- resulting in the chain falling completely off once, i was the cutest girl on the street... pigtails flapping in the wind... soaked & muddied to the bone. that proclamation is in no way cheapened by the fact that the only other people i saw happened to be 3 homeless men. i rode back through the nice neighborhoods & looked at all the pretty houses i will never live in. this is sounding like a 2nd graders 'what i did this summer essay'
i think i might pass out. i'm tired, extremely sick, have a really high fever & feel sort of drunk (i'm not...i think it is delirium)
this weekend has sucked. but i enjoyed my little ride.
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
i was feeling rather large & ugly yesterday.... and nothing is better to re-enforce such a feeling & image of yourself than slipping into a pair of pink tights, a black leotard & a pair of toe shoes that have seen better days & attempting to even remotely recreate the grace & elegance that once came as easily as breathing.
yes, i think it is fair to say that my plies were wobbly, my battements tendus quite easily could be classified as ten-don'ts & not a single battements grande made it's round without a gasp & a crack of my hipbones....not to mention that not once did my knee ever come close to passing by my cheek as it should....that would have required me being prostrate on the floor...which i nearly was by the end of it all.
when did i turn from a limbre muscular 16 year old girl into a creaky, weak 32 year old woman? i'm not quite sure but all i know is that there wasn't an ounce of that young lovely creature in the bathtub with me 20 minutes ago- rubbing the knots out of my feet and calves. i HAVE muscles...i swear i do- i just spent an hour rubbing them- they are there, they are hard & smooth (especially after i shaved) ... but they have failed me miserably. today it was all i could do to sit upright in my chair & not once but twice i almost fell to my knees when getting up out of my seat.
woe is me.... the muscle tone i have known... and lost. all that is left are the aches & pains of a tired old broad who looks gay in her rubber warm up pants.
Monday, February 02, 2004
here are my plans so far:
it will be centered around an old abandoned factory located in the middle of a junk yard full old mid century relics & cars. protection from the undesirable outside world will be provided by a high foreboding wall.
inside will be a wonderland of workspaces, play spaces, modern against ancient practicality juxtaposed with pure unadulterated whimsy.
it will be outfitted with the following:
a working crane, a full wood & metal shop, painting studio, darkroom, library, industrial kitchen & room to house whatever friends & dignitaries i feel like spending time with. it must also have a green glass tile bathroom with a huge sunken tub straight out of the most decadent porn set/whore house you can imagine. i like to loll about naked with my friends during my weekly 'turkish bath house party.' and it is so much more fun if there is room for everyone.
the only way to enter my happy home will be via a half pipe.
once completed i have no intension of venturing out of my junk yard...ever. only my closest friends will be invited to visit my compound... & of course hot delivery men in uniforms i find titillating
(do firemen make deliveries???? maybe i will have to add a firepit to the plans)
there will be a huge garden in the back full of heirloom veggies & brilliantly hued flowers. my collection of historical & endangered livestock & fowl will graze the dewy pastures nestled deep within my kingdom's walls. and together we will live in blissful snow white like adoration of each other.
i will communicate with the rest of the world via a herd of trained cats that will run messages back and forth through a series of underground tunnels leading from my factory to the fortress walls.
anyone who knows me also knows that this is NOT written in jest. that truly IS my dream home. white picket fences hold no allure. i am the only girl i have ever known that found an old artichoke processing factory (that covered about 80 acres & had 15+ ramshackle buildings) & literally fell in love. & shed real tears because i didn't have the $900,000 to buy it. someday...
i'm so sick right now my skin hurts to the touch & i can barely move. i want to go to bed but i'm not sure i can get there without crawling & i really need to vacuum the cat hair off the carpet.
give me something i want for once instead of making me give it away. the only lie i ever told was saying i didn't care when it was all i really cared about.
i could cry but i can't.
Sunday, February 01, 2004
abc carpet & home when it is decorated for christmas
mama's mac-n-cheese, brussel sprouts & mashed potatoes
the 'coke' ice cream truck in the l.e.s. (it was just funny to have the OPTION of buying crack or fudgecicles....i ALWAYS bought fudgecicles!!!)
dean & deluca
going to movies by myself in the afternoon at angelica theater
26th street flea market
la malle kitchen supply
the OLD urban archaeology when it was dirty & full of cobwebs
walking down great jones st early in the morning when nobody is out on the street & pretending i'm hanging out with jack kerouac
roof top gardens
my hammock backstage at the delacorte theater in central park
pearl river department store
bemelman's bar in the carlisle
the union square farmer's market
bethesda terrace in central park
kissing in shakespeare's garden
the costume institute at the met
the two guys who played 5 gal plastic buckets at the times square station on the 2, 3, 1, 9 & the ten year old prodigy who played the violin on the 4, 5, 6 line at union square
walking around brooklyn heights @ night with the gas lamps lit
basketball after work on canal & skating at the prison or under the brooklyn bridge
the strand bookstore
the opening of the metropolitan opera season @ lincoln center
the guy whole sold the 'wonder mouse' on canal street
shopping for bondage wear & poppers on christopher street...at any hour of the day
museums, galleries & botanical gardens
neighborhood gardens with chickens & roosters