So I’m blaming my utter inability to write anything close to my previous standard of blog post (as well as my recent inability to have an orgasm…sorry if that’s too much information for you folks but believe me, it’s relevant to MY life. So there)) to the increase in my antidepressant dosage. Which keeps me from downing all my Xanax and slamming a Vodka/Nyquil/Red Bull cocktail, but does nothing to enhance my usual wry sense of humor.
The, ahem, personal situation I’ve been dealing with is resolving rather nicely but I can’t, for the life of me, get too worked up about much of anything except the upcoming season of Lost (January 31st at 8pm CST – check your local listings Losties!). I have an acquaintance who writes for a rather well-known magazine who’d heard a rumor last month that the show wasn’t going to be aired at all until they had a complete season. If I hadn’t been fucked up on margaritas at the time I probably would have punched her, simply because I don’t have a way to get to the network bozos who make those kinds of decisions. Shoot the messenger – that’s my motto.
Lately, I’ve been digging the shit out of this Diablo Cody chick. While I haven’t exactly rushed out to see Juno yet (she wrote the screenplay), I’ve been hearing that her writing is pretty good. So I checked out her book, Candy Girl: A Year in the Life of an Unlikely Stripper just to see what all the fuss was about and have been completely delighted & entertained by her witty/sarcastic/GenX sassiness. I’m not so much in awe of her story as I am by the way she tells it
Nobody comes to Minnesota to take their clothes off. At least as far as I know. This ain’t no nightclub. Here in the woebegone upper country, Jack Frost is a liberal, rangy sadist with ice crystals in his soul patch…
Yummy prose like this make Observant want more. And take heart fellow bloggers, she was discovered through her blog, The Pussy Ranch, which she wrote during her stripper days. Lucky bitch.
Speaking of strip clubs, Kansas City’s most notorious “juice bar”, Erotic City, has been in the news lately (read all about it here). Ken and I went on a KC Porn Crawl one night a couple of years ago (OK, it wasn’t an officialPorn Crawl, we just made that name up as we were driving around from porn shop to porn shop) and Erotic City was our final stop. A nastier place I have never been to, either. I’m totally down with dildo and other “adult novelty” displays, and having never been to a bonafide peepshow I was pretty stoked to see one for myself, but this place reeked with a scumball funk so rank you could taste it. The front of Erotic City is where their retail shit is: Dildos, various and sundry anal products, bongs, rolling papers – you know, everything you need for a porn shoot. The lighting was really bad and there were about five greasy-looking guys milling around, presumably waiting for their women to finish their pole shifts.
A notice posted on the wall that read “All dancers MUST SHOWER DAILY” quickly clued me to the fact that this was NOT the most sanitary place on earth (thus NOT the place for OCD-Me). Additionally, Ken and I were getting a SERIOUSLY freaked-out vibe from the place (probably channeling all the underage sex that apparently goes on there). Back room peepshow-viewing plans aborted, we hightailed it out of Erotic City and back to the suburbs, where a very clean and sparkling Priscilla’s awaits, just minutes from our own front door. And while Pricscilla’s doesn’t offer a peepshow experience, one can shop for a new vibrator in relative comfort (and very good lighting).
Turns out I like the idea of seedy much better than I like the reality of it.
So Diablo Cody I am not – I’ll never take my clothes off in a scummy strip bar on a whim, or write a book called Porn Crawl: They Only Come Out At Night, be declared The Next Big Thing (!) and immediately have my screenplays made into movies starring hip, name-brand actors and actresses. I will, however, be happy to get my orgasm back. Has anybody seen it?