Saturday, March 28, 2009


The dish, rapid fire... Shall we bullet point this baby or what? Okay, here we go.

  1. My youngest brother, Nick is a social media God. He Twittered with Mc Hammer from 33,000 feet. Isn't he a honey?!
  2. In honor of Ada Lovelace Day, one of my Twitter dishing buddies, BitDepth, has written a lovely post about women in New Media and he GENEROUSLY included me. To be in the company of the women he wrote about is quite an honor. If you haven't read his blog, check it out. He is a photographer and a filmmaker. His work is rich and luscious, like his personality.
  3. Tuesday was suuuuhhhhrrrrrrreal.
  4. Wednesday I had to re-pee in a bucket, but failed miserably. The whole thing was entirely too nauseating. Let's just say I jeopardized the specimen.
  5. Thursday morning I had a date with Urarella (Nephroqueen). He's so dramatic, my God. Only 8 viles of blood on the wall, 8 viles of blood, if one should happen to fall... Anyway, he wanted me to have an MRI. However, as of Friday, I have decided not to. If he thinks squeezing me into a tube of toothpaste for an hour and a half is going to happen, he's grossly mistaken. He saw my kidneys on the big screen (ultrasound), that's enough for him. Geez Louise, what's his plan? To jerk off with a new set of MRI'd kidneys, my kidneys?! He's going to have to find a new pair. "Gee, Katie, that's not overly dramatic at all."
  6. I know this is super old, but I'm still in shock that in this recession somebody bought a car for 4.4 MM. To be fair, it's truly a spectacular automobile. Still. Who has 4 mil to play with, especially after record job losses, Madoff, Wall Street and the housing crisis?!
  7. Do not forget to vote for Miss Nora O’Sullivan, she’s in 3rd place. If anyone can get her into 1st, we can. Click here now.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009


From Joe:

Hi everybody!

I'm tied up at work and won't have a chance to get this up on Sprawling Ramshackle Compound for a while, so I need your help. Our daughter Nora is a semi-finalist in the Fangoria Spooksmodel contest. Right now she's kind of bummed out because she's getting her ass kicked in the voting--she's competing against a more than a few softcore porn actresses and pro models. Please click on the link (here it is again: Fangoria Spooksmodel) and scroll down until you see Nora O'Sullivan in her evil nurse costume.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD VOTE FOR THIS GIRL. Nobody loves horror more than Nora, and she needs to place in the top 13 to go to the finals in L.A. Vote early and often, it's easy, and forward this to any gorehounds you know, or anyone who just loves to vote in internet contests.

I really appreciate it. She'd love to see her numbers climb. Take care, and thanks for reading!


Run. Go. Vote.


Our beloved blogging buddy, Beth Coffey is having a SUPER DUPER BIRTHDAY TODAY. Click over and wish that dame a very happy birthday.

Bethy, the world is a better place because you're in it. I celebrate you every day, today is extra special because you were born. You are loved and adored by many. You're a good friend, a great person and you have a heart of gold.

I wish you the world, my dear. My this year bring you everything your lovely soul desires.


Tuesday, March 24, 2009


A few weeks ago, I joined two incredible women, Joy Hurwitz and Belle Zwerdling, to form Three Dames With A Clue, a women's collective that produces live, filmed, interactive theatre coined My Authentic Expression.

Each month, a new topic is tabled and guided by 3-4 panelists, paired with an online series of interviews featuring some of the web's most prolific women writers and artists. Some you might even know, FranIAm and KarenZipdrive. As you can see, we've got some really kick ass dames coming out for this. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, we'll be posting new interviews.

Our first show is slated for May 11th in Los Angeles. Location TBA. I will keep youse posted. If you're in LA, please e-stalk me for reservations. Tickets are FREE. Parking is 5 bucks. Free appetizers. Cocktails and beverages are totally doable. Nothing crazy price wise. After all, we are in a recession.

Friday, March 20, 2009


Oh, how I love and appreciate a blog award, especially this one, the Sisterhood Award, from a dame I adore, Liberality Liberal. LL has bestowed this award on some bloggers I am looking forward to reading because their blogs sound way up my alley. One of the bloggers, Mauigirl, I adore sooo much. Thanks Libbylib, I'm a lucky dame.

What I love most about the Sisterhood Award is what it means to me: camaraderie, mutual respect, appreciation for other women, elevating and uplifting, not degrading or disrespecting, and feeling connected, not because all women are going to like each other cause'ns we're of the Vsuasion. Though, it would be great if we could, at the very least be there for each other in some small way. Maybe even help each other achieve our goals, instead of trying to take a sistah' down. That just ain't right. I see a lot of that, as I'm sure we all have, and experienced it, too. Most unfestive, donchya think? Yeah... I know.

The origin of sisterhood, according to Webster's 1350–1400; ME sosterhode. Sisterhood is as vintage an expression as they come. The meanings of sisterhood that resonate the most for me is #1 and #5

1. the state of being a sister.
5.Usually, the sisterhood. the community or network of women who participate in or support feminism.

Are we screaming, Jewgirl, or what? I think so.

Now it's my turn to impart this award to 10 other dames. I will try my best to keep it at 10, but that's gonna be tough. There are so many sisterhood hearted dames who deserve this award.

Fran I Am - Frannylish is unique, she's as religious as she is irreverent. The two live side-by-side so beautifully. I love her for that and everything in between. I've also had coffee with this delightful dame, a day I'll never forget.

I would've chosen Maugirl, but Liberality has already done so. Mauigirl is political, personal and has a series I truly dig, the talking-through-her-cat-series -- hilar.

Next up is Lisa Golden. This broad takes my breath away. You might know her from Unplugged or Politits, her former blogs. Now, she's blogging under her name. I swear to God, I think she writes from her womb. Her Adventures in Parenting series, and blogging about relationship mishigas are pretty deep, she's truly authentic.

How could I possibly leave out a dame I'm just starting to dish with on Facebook and hopefully email soon. We've been reading each other for a year now, I think. I've been crushing on her since I discovered her blog. She goes by Helen Wheels and her blog is Just Ain't Right. Her lady balls are MASSIVE. When it comes to politics, she ladles it from the left, hard. I dare anyone to cross her. Ga'head, try.

This next broad, PulpFriction, kicks ass. The day she was born, God said, "I'm thinking irreverent. No, that's not it. I know, irreverent squared. No, no, no. Hmmm... What should we give her? Oh, I know, a heaping fucking crazy ass dose of IRREVERENCE." She's brilliant!

Anyone who can speak in pirate tongue, regardless of the topic, be it politics, personal, life, whatever, wins my heart. Not only is the Lesbian Pirate Queen a great read, she strikes me as a fascinating dame.

Snackiepoo and I are kinda neighbors. We live in the same part of the stateish. I've been crushing on her since I started reading her blog. She's blunt, brave, beautiful, talented and has a heart of gold. Mind you, she'll probably whack me for saying as much, but I don't care. She is, Blanche, she is.

I think the first comment Teeny left on my blog was "Crushing you with my love". I clicked over to find out more about this broad and I fell hard. Teeny is one of those dames who vomits onto her blog with a dash of daintiness and a heaping dose effervescence.

UtahSavage. Please. A dame who considers herself savage was born with moxie a girl like me only dreams of one day achieving. US is a fantastic writer, dark and soulful.

BorderExplorer is a no nonsense, straight-from-the-hip-one-of-a-kind, broads with that oompha thing going. You know what I mean? She's fulla grit and soul, this gal.

TellingSecrets. Without even realizing it, she's restored my faith in ways I feel, but need not express. The intersection, something I will never forget and always treasure.

Jintrinsique, I owe her an email. That said, what I adore about this dame is that she puts herself, her sexuality, her passion for baking (she's a pro, donchya know), and for life, right there for the world to see, without giving a shit about what anyone thinks about her. She's fearless.

Cup-of-Coffey has a birthday coming up next week! Do not forget to wish this dame a very, very, very happy birthday, a big sexy day. I celebrate Coffey every day, she's a doll, a genuine, kind, good soul. Her love and knowledge of music, especially REM, is unprecedented. She's a good friend, a kick ass blogger and a flawless dame.

If I've left any of my girls out, forgive me, you know you're in the sisterhood!

Tuesday, March 17, 2009



There are a million reasons we love Bubbsie. He's dark:

and funny as hell:

We love his writing, the child can spin a yarn like nobody's business. A few of Bubbsie's treasured topics are Clowns, Alligators, and of course, who could live without his FREAK OF THE WEEK series.

GUESS WHAT, our Bubsielicious has spun a disturbingly sick and funny non-fiction story, running in the spring edition of Farmhouse Magazine. This might be Bubbsie's first stop, that we know of, but one thing we are most certain about is that it's just the beginning -- This kid's got mad writing skills. Click on over and read about his Day With Antonia.

Sunday, March 15, 2009


This song bugs the mother fucking shit out of me for reasons I really don't know. It could be the nasally-stuck-in-his-throat harmony of Time Passages, though I'm not certain.

How mizzy does the broad look in this picture? To me, she screams: "Dress, stuff and roast you're own fucking turkey." I agree with her completely. Living in 2009, I have the privilege and luck of saying as much.

I'm irritated with nephroqueen's new medication. I think it's giving me headaches and making me tired. I'd call him Monday, but I'm seeing him on Tuesday. Gee, I can't fucking wait. I'm so excited. My nicknames for my nephrologist are: Obviously, nephroqueen, nephroboy, nephrologyboy, nephroasspain, kidneyologist, urinequeen, urarella, blood-and-urine-sucking-vampire, and I think that's pretty much it. Got any new ones for me?

I'm addicted to
Twitter, much more so than Facebook, not sure how I feel about Facebook or if I really want to assign an emotion to it.

My weekend has been great. Yesterday, was long, festive and kept me busy, running, doing, seeing, you know the drill.

Today, I'm getting myself a cheap-ass-massage-NO-release (they do rub and tugs for dames, did you know that? I didn't. What you would you call it anyway? A rub and rub? Lame).

I think I hate Wordpress, but I really want to like it.

I'm in a kvetchy, weird, don't know where to throw myself, mood. Fab. Fortunately, I'm extricating myself from my house in about an hour for the day, yay. That should turn my mood around.

I think it's odd when my shrinktail wears sweaters instead of a shirt. It's so, I'm a psychiatrist and you're not. He's just missing those Tweed elbow pads. Whatever the fuck they're called. I'm not breaking up with him. Shrinkdating him is great. However, I still have no fucking self-esteem. Eh, I'm hoping some of it will crawl up my ass and make its way to my brain. Wouldn't that be nice?

Have a great Sunday.

Friday, March 13, 2009


If you haven't figured it out yet, I love Vanessa Hidary's spoken word and I'm not much of a spoken wordian. This broad is off the mothah fuckin' hook. Watch!

Oh, and when you're done, a gift from my friend Crionaberry, a personal ad with a TABLE OF CONTENTS. Oh yes, a TOC, beautiful babies.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009


So, on Twitter today, I discovered some kick ass dish from some folks I'm following.

From @Rex7, what does a trillion dollars look like? Click it, the visual will take your wig off!

From @dcagle, Tattoo Barbie. Ha.

Liberality, I got your comment, I'm on it, babycakes. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.


Bubbsielicious of the Sprawling Ramshackle sent me a gift this week via email that is truly flawless. Behold the sagiest of sage words dripping from the below Craigslistian ad posting.

Don't Shave That Hair!!!

I have recently made a mistake in my life, and I offer my story to you, that you may learn from my error.

It all started, as many things do, with me having trouble shitting. No, I was not constipated; this was not a regularity problem but a matter of technique. It seems my ass-hair had grown to such a length that tiny grogans were constantly getting tied up in the matted jungle between my asscheeks.

It led to much frustration, with me KNOWING that I still had something to drop, but unable to shake the tenacious turd loose from its butthair dwelling. Eventually I would have to do two things: either reach down with some paper and try to pinch off the lingering loaf (which required careful precision to avoid smearing the creature all over my rear, especially since I had no way of seeing what I was doing) or just go for broke, start wiping, and hope that I could remove all the leftover fecal matter before the toilet paper reached its Can't-Be-Flushed threshold.

I was contemplating this problem, when I had what seemed at the time to be a bright idea.

"Hey! This is my butt and my butt-hair, right? So why don't I just eliminate all the hair, and then my grogans will flow out like beer from a keg!" I said to myself.

It is a statement that will go down in history with a lot of other regretted statements.

"How many Indians could there be?" said by General Custer. "Looks like a good day for a drive!" by JFK. "There! America On-Line now has complete Usenet access!" by some idiot system tech.

Such was my anal shaving idea. I performed the operation that night, with a cheap disposable razor and a towel to sit on. Starting from the bottom, and shaving from the crack to the cheeks, I began the arduous process of ridding my ass of hair.

Occassionally, I would have to clean the razor of accumulated hair and miscellaneous slime, which I did by wiping it on the towel. Slowly, my twin mounds and the between-ravine began to resemble the hairless cheeks of a newborn baby.

Finally, I wiped the razor one last time, and surveyed my work. The towel was covered with a pile of hair. My ass was smooth as ivory. I smiled, satisfied, thinking my troubles were over.

Little did I know. I now have a great respect for anal-hair. Like everything in this world God created, it has its mighty purpose in existence. It was only after I had removed it that I started to learn how much I had been taking it for granted. For one, it provides friction. I learned this the next day, when I walked out into the sun heading for class. After climbing two flights of stairs and starting to sweat, I started to notice something unpleasant. The sweat was accumulating in my crack, and was causing the unpleasant sensation of my two asscheeks sliding past each other with every step.

I thought about going to the bathroom and wiping it off, but had to get to class. Eventually, I thought, it would dry. Unfortunately, it did dry, but only after mingling with the microscopic shit- molecules lingering around my brown starfish. When I stood up after class, my cheeks were stuck together with a slimy sticky shit/sweat combination.

As I made my way back to my dorm, it started to itch. God-DAMN, did it itch! Felt like a swarm of ants was making its way up and down my crack. Fighting to keep from jamming my hand down there and scratching away, I rushed back to the dorm. Unfortunately again, this exertion caused me to sweat, and when I finally reached my room, my cheeks were sliding back and forth against each other like a pair of horny cane-toads.

I quickly dropped my pants, and attempted to dry my ass off by sticking it in front of a fan and spreading my cheeks. As I pulled the two mounds of flesh apart, a horrible stench burst free and filled the room. Every dog within a 4 block radius started to howl. I had it worst of all, as the ripe aroma of festering shit/sweat went into the fan and blew back into my face. I fought to keep from heaving. And as I sat there, fighting vomit, my ass cheeks spread and dripping, with the concentrated aroma of my body odor mixed with the tangy smell of my own shit blowing right into my face, I had only one thought: "It will be like this until the hair grows back.

Weeks. Later on, trying to deal as best I could, wiping my ass at every opportunity, I discovered another wonderful use for ass-hair - ventilation.

I attempted to launch a fart, only to have it get stuck between my asscheeks. Apparently, with no hair, the two pink twins can get vacuum sealed together, and the result was a frustrating fart that slid up and down between my cheeks like a lost gerbil.

As if that wasn't enough, I am now enduring further torture. As anyone who has ever shaved anything knows, when hair is first growing in, it comes in as stubble. Imagine your ass having the texture of a brillo pad. Well, that is what I am dealing with now. It is a hellish torture, and there are many times when I just look out the window and contemplate why I shouldn't just jump out and get it all over with in one fleshy splat, rather than endure this constant agony.


Saturday, March 07, 2009


"The Hebrew Mamita" Vanessa Hidary (Def Poetry)

Thursday, March 05, 2009


Two of my good friends are dispensing much needed pearls of wisdom.

Al Sensu of Hard and Fast (I adore this man). He dishes up in-your-face sex advice and answers every taboo question you can't think of, yes, it's true. With a smile, a dash of wit and a lot of heart, he responds to at least 50 + queries a month. Being the doll baby he is, he never publishes email addy's, so you can e-stalk him knowing he will vigorously protect your privacy.

SinJin Merriweather of AskSinJin (I adore this man, too. Does that make me slutty?). From the inane, to the bizarre, whatever you want to know, SinJin can toss a pearl your way. He's sharp as a whip, funny and very insightful. Like Al, he also believes in protecting your identity.

Check em' out and e-stalk them Q's. They're great dishy blokes.

Wednesday, March 04, 2009


This morning, my good friends at Echelon Magazine (if you haven't perused this read, click on over and check it out, it's wonderful. PS: Their weekly newsletter kicks ass. You can also follow them on Twitter if you're Twittering, that is. @Echelon_mag.

Back to my yarn... When I clicked on the link Michael sent me and saw this headline Soy is making kids 'gay', I thought, no. No way is this schmuck that stupid. Turns out, he is! Though vintage, circa 2006, the original yarn was posted here. I've bolded my favorite parts.

Soy is making kids 'gay'

There's a slow poison out there that's severely damaging our children and threatening to tear apart our culture. The ironic part is, it's a "health food," one of our most popular.

Now, I'm a health-food guy, a fanatic who seldom allows anything into his kitchen unless it's organic. I state my bias here just so you'll know I'm not anti-health food. (Good to know, I was worried. Stating your fanaticism versus saying you're a fan of, or passionate about, gives me more insight into you, even if it is just about "food". Or is that the your beard?)

The dangerous food I'm speaking of is soy. Soybean products are feminizing, and they're all over the place. You can hardly escape them anymore. I have nothing against an occasional soy snack. Soy is nutritious and contains lots of good things. Unfortunately, when you eat or drink a lot of soy stuff, you're also getting substantial quantities of estrogens. Estrogens are female hormones. If you're a woman, you're flooding your system with a substance it can't handle in surplus. If you're a man, you're suppressing your masculinity and stimulating your "female side," physically and mentally. (You hear that boys, you're being emasculated by soy.)

In fetal development, the default is being female. All humans (even in old age) tend toward femininity. (Try telling that to my grandfather, Abe Schwartz, the scotch drinker who's balls were so big, he wore them as anklets in his polyester pants, 70's short boots and always a Hollywood t-shirt with a vintage dame on his chest in shorty-shorts and sporting ginormous boobies. Wait, was that his beard? Hmmm.)

The main thing that keeps men from diverging into the female pattern is testosterone, and testosterone is suppressed by an excess of estrogen. If you're a grownup, you're already developed, and you're able to fight off some of the damaging effects of soy. Babies aren't so fortunate. Research is now showing that when you feed your baby soy formula, you're giving him or her the equivalent of five birth control pills a day. A baby's endocrine system just can't cope with that kind of massive assault, so some damage is inevitable. At the extreme, the damage can be fatal. Soy is feminizing, and commonly leads to a decrease in the size of the penis, sexual confusion and homosexuality. That's why most of the medical (not socio-spiritual) blame for today's rise in homosexuality must fall upon the rise in soy formula and other soy products. (Most babies are bottle-fed during some part of their infancy, and one-fourth of them are getting soy milk!)

Homosexuals often argue that their homosexuality is inborn because "I can't remember a time when I wasn't homosexual." No, homosexuality is always deviant. (You knew that, right?) But now many of them can truthfully say that they can't remember a time when excess estrogen wasn't influencing them.

Doctors used to hope soy would reduce hot flashes, prevent cancer and heart disease, and save millions in the Third World from starvation. That was before they knew much about long-term soy use. Now we know it's a classic example of a cure that's worse than the disease.

For example, if your baby gets colic from cow's milk, do you switch him to soy milk? Don't even think about it. His phytoestrogen level will jump to 20 times normal. If he is a she, brace yourself for watching her reach menarche as young as seven, robbing her of years of childhood. If he is a boy, it's far worse: He may not reach puberty till much later than normal.

Research in 2000 showed that a soy-based diet at any age can lead to a weak thyroid, which commonly produces heart problems and excess fat. Could this explain the dramatic increase in obesity today?

Recent research on rats shows testicular atrophy, infertility and uterus hypertrophy (enlargement). This helps explain the infertility epidemic and the sudden growth in fertility clinics.

(Bra-fuckin-vo. Rhetoric 10 points)

But alas, by the time a soy-damaged infant has grown to adulthood and wants to marry, it's too late to get fixed by a fertility clinic.

Worse, there's now scientific evidence that estrogen ingredients in soy products may be boosting the rapidly rising incidence of leukemia in children. In the latest year we have numbers for, new cases in the U.S. jumped 27 percent. In one year! There's also a serious connection between soy and cancer in adults – especially breast cancer. That's why the governments of Israel, the UK, France and New Zealand are already cracking down hard on soy.

In sad contrast, 60 percent of the refined foods in U.S. supermarkets now contain soy. Worse, soy use may double in the next few years because (last I heard) the out-of-touch medicrats in the FDA hierarchy are considering allowing manufacturers of cereal, energy bars, fake milk, fake yogurt, etc., to claim that "soy prevents cancer." It doesn't.

P.S.: Soy sauce is fine. Unlike soy milk, it's perfectly safe because it's fermented, which changes its molecular structure. Miso, natto and tempeh are also OK, but avoid tofu. (Thanks, I'll be sure to tell all my straight-male friends)

Ah, fucktardaree done right is the breakfast of champions.

Monday, March 02, 2009

Plotzarella from the brilliance

T-Mobile Germany launched their new commercial. It was shot at Liverpool station in London . They used 400 dancers and 10 hidden cameras. No one but the station employees and dancers knew what was going on... it was aired on youtube and TV.


My cousin, Dorian is an artist based in the Bay Area. When she has her next opening, I will be sure to let my SF buds and readers know so youse can all meet this great dame and wildly talented artist.

BFF, Cormac, I hope you and the missus can make it (no guilt, I promise).

Dorian is tremendously talented, very unique and dark. Her work is soul food at its finest. See for yourselves right here and here. If you want, friend her on Facebook.

While I'm on the subject of fine art and San Francisco artists, have you seen Freaky Jewelry's blog? Her jewelry is as dark as it is whimsical and as distinctive as she is. You must run like a dawg. Each piece has a yarn. Check it out, yo! Love this broad's work and she is such a honey.

PS: Liberality and Border Explorer, thanks for the ya know's. I will be posting this week.


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