New Year’s Eve is coming and with it, parties, booze, and tragedies caused by idiots who cannot accept that they are too drunk to drive and jerks who willfully ignore the rules of consent. For those of you planning to party on New Year’s Eve, I’ve provided a short but concise list of legal tips to help start the year off without anybody getting hurt.

If you are drunk, do not drive.

This should go without saying as it’s not only the law, it’s common sense. If you’re caught for drunk driving and are lucky you’ll just get a fine and the suspension of your driver’s license. If unlucky, drunk driving charges can result in a jail term ranging from four months to life in prison.

When in doubt, don’t do it.

The legal definition of drunk has nothing to do with how you feel. It is an arbitrary standard: if you have more than eighty milligrams of alcohol in your system for every hundred milliliters of blood, you are considered above the legal limit.

You may feel perfectly fine and sober but that does not matter if a breathalyzer indicates that you are above this limit. The golden rule to follow on New Year’s Eve or any other time is: when in doubt, don’t drive. Sleep over, get a lift, or call a cab or Operation Nez Rouge to get home safe.

You’ll save lives, including your own.

Drunken consent is not legally consent.

Rapes happen all the time, and in environments where booze is free flowing, there is always that scum bag who says the victim agreed to sex even though said victim was very drunk at the time of the attack. If a person is drunk they are in no shape to consent to sexual activity. They are incapable of consenting to sexual activity because their ability to freely give consent was affected by the alcohol. If a person is in no shape to drive, they are in no condition to agree to sex with you, so do the noble, legal thing and don’t have sex with them.

If a person is unconscious, they cannot consent.

The inevitable result of too much drinking and partying is often a loss of consciousness. If a person is passed out, this is not an invitation to touch, grope, or spoon with them. If a person is too drunk to say “no” to whatever it is you want to do with them, they are also too drunk to say “yes”.

Their passivity does not equal consent. The legal definition of sexual assault is sexual touching without consent, so if a person is unconscious, keep your hands to yourself.

When in doubt, check in.

A lot of people find the idea of double-checking for consent an unsexy mood-killer. You know what’s really unsexy? Sexual assault and the ten or more years in prison you get if convicted.

When in doubt, check with the person you’re with to make sure they’re consenting freely to all of what you are doing together. Check often if you have to. It’s better than violating your partner and will keep you out of trouble.

Remember that fireworks are dangerous and cities usually have rules about where you can set them off.

New Year’s Eve can be a blast and to celebrate you may want to set off some fireworks. Do your homework first.

Fireworks are extremely dangerous and every New Year’s Day the news is filled with horror stories of people who blew their fingers off and burned their houses down. Remember that at the end of the day, fireworks are basically just explosives and are just as dangerous.

Read the instructions on the package, do not use them when drunk and be sure use them far from buildings and facing away from people. You should also call the city or check out your municipal website to make sure there are no bylaws in place forbidding the use of fireworks within city limits.

In Montreal it is forbidden to use fireworks, bottle rockets, or other pyrotechnics without authorization from the city. Failure to obey the laws could result in hefty fines and if there is property damage or people get hurt, you could also be looking at jail time.

The perk of adulthood is that we can welcome the New Year the way it was meant to be welcome: with a glass of something boozy and a kiss at midnight. Unfortunately it’s also one of the most dangerous nights to be out celebrating.

Let’s start this year off right by making sure our world is a little safer.

HAPPY 2018 EVERYBODY!

We all know of the dirty 30 expression, what about clean 31? This show marks a full decade of burlesque.

I have been a Stripteaser since my idea was to strip down to a bald cap and all white and be the sexiest Mr Clean the world has ever seen. My outfit was complete with the only pristine white panties I have that say “fuck it” on the ass and a pair of pink fishnets from the floor.

Since it was my birthday I decided to hit a bowl before the show. Of course I coughed, and of course I peed a little. The show must go on.

Depeche Mode “Clean” came on in the red lit bar. I lost my virginity to a different Depeche Mode song, kind of silly. I love this bar. Nietzsches is as filthy as me, the cobwebs and memories.

It was really crowded for such a cold December night. I came out as a goofy housewife and vacuumed the bar. Then the reveal, wig off, crowd roars, and Mr Clean took the stage with a dirty rubber fist (which I licked). Killed it.

Afterwards upstairs we were chilling and changing. I looked down and to my whorer and dismay my formerly pristine white panties were now blood stained! What? I couldn’t have gotten my period! I just had it last week!

Wait. Last week I wore these pink fishnets, last week when I realized after the show that my lady in red was raging. I threw the tights to the floor where I found them a week later, in my haste I did not notice the stain.

When I coughed my pee reactivated the shark week and I definitely earned my filthiest person at camp title. Mr Clean dancing around with last week’s period stained underwear is pretty much my life in a nutshell.

I really am gross and don’t know how I spend all of these decades existing in my own filth and bad taste. It’s the best. New year new me, another revolution around the sun, thirty fucking one.

The party is for me and everyone can see my stains. I wear them with pride. I always say I am going to get my shit together, clean my room and purge the clutter from my disorganized soul. Stop wearing ditty clothes off the floor, or at least checking the crotch.

Top notch filth queen. Red crusty funk goddess. Crotch like pennies. I am the hottest mess and my own biggest distraction. Beauty in the rubble of former brilliance. A smile with cracks always lacks. Dry lips and elbows, some dreams forgotten, some achieved, and a whole lot more experience needed. Living life one day at a time, just trying to get high and feel good vibes.

My new years resolution? My birthday wish? I don’t know. Revolution. Be a better person, give even less fucks about what others think. Shock more with my art, really say something meaningful and be smart.

Be brilliant. Ge naked. Eat Shit. Inspire others to break out of the box and onto the streets. Realize you can accomplish everything. Food not bombs, homes not jails, trapped in the middle of an apocalypse, the rise of assholism and the fall of being quiet.

This year I will raise my fist higher and I will make more soup for my friends when they are sick. I want to be the most vitamin enriched veggies bubbling in a pot of hot broth and spices. Reborn.

My neighborhood is changing just like my aging body. It is creaky and sagging. Nobodys/Filigrees is gone. It was just the shell of a former artspace but I cried a little when it was just a pile of rubble. Colorful spaces and history smashed into a pile.

I became ME in that building, it was the safest place to be a majestic fuck up, a misfit that can only fit in at a place where nobody is president. Just like Dreamland, it has got to be an idea.

No. I can’t let gentrification bring me down on my birthday. The future terrifies me.

This is my actual birthday, the day I was cut out of my mothers womb, the celebration of my first breath and a butt slap heard round the world. Am I what I wanted to be when I was five? Do I have all the things I wanted? I never got a Barbie car, but I have happiness.

My bliss is the safety of warmth on a cold winter night. I am blessed in gifts beyond presents. The presence of real compassion and passion.

I got a weed cake, a glorious hot pink sparkle unicorn, handmade rainbow earrings, a giant rainbow dildo, and some eco friendly glitter!  My loves really know me. They are so kind, I feel selfish in comparison. I am a Capricorn, I work hard and care with all of me.

Sure I am a mess, but who isn’t? Humans are as gross as they are beautiful. Embrace the yuck in your own life, fight hate with supreme love, celebrate your imperfections and create a world where we all laugh at the face of insecurity.

2018 is our year! Make a wish when you blow out the candles and kiss that pretty girl at the stroke of midnight.

Life as a shit show is exhausting but also incredibly exuberant and rewarding beyond belief! General fun, debauchery, and awe inspiring moves will make your life worth writing about.

Being a beautiful mess and delectable disaster is a full time job. People look to me for amusement and escape from the mundane. I am usually naked and fearless with my performances. The secret? Never stop, won’t stop.

My heart beats for the stage. Life has no rehearsal. I put my heart and soul into everything I do and I think that it shows.

I also really want the dreams of the people around me to come true too! It’s incredible to know that you had a hand in granting someone’s wish, whether it be big or small.

I am not the center of the universe, I am just a person like everyone else. But I conquer every scene along the way because I can.

This is my year! Say it! Travel. Spread those wings! I went to Washington DC for the Women’s March and ended up being featured in the Washington Post (and becoming an alt right meme lol), I went to Oakland for Burger Bugaloo and was in the San Franciso Chronicle, and my biggest feat was being featured in the style section of the New York Times floating on a flamingo raft in drag for Camp John Waters.

My goal was to meet him and leave an impression, and that I did. I literally covered myself in fake dog shit for that shit show! Best moments of my life. I may not have money, but I am a success!

Most weeks I have at least three burlesque shows (sometimes five) , plus work, and volunteering that makes things a bit crazy in my world. A lot of people ask me how I do it. Well, sometimes I just want to collapse into my bed hole and wrap my legs around my lover for days on end, vegan pizza delivery to my window please, warm fuzzy blankets, and a side of kitty cuddles will complete this fantasy. Please! Add the bong to the mix and I will never leave.

But, alas, I must. Rest is important when you can get it, especially in this life where every single moment is delicately scheduled.

I live out of piles of sparkling costumes. I can put together any costume to the T our of the contents of my disaster. I don’t understand how I can reach into the abyss and pull out exactly what I need every time. I am lucky, I am a winner.

My girlfriend laughs at me when I say “I AM A WINNER” out loud with a creepy face and then proceed to get exactly what I want every single time. I think it is the power of positivity. I know it’s mine. I am the master of my own destiny, nobody tells me no! If I have a dream I will achieve it, no questions.

My grandmother was always really lucky like that too. She would win a royal flush on one machine at the casino and then hit another jackpot on the machine next to it while waiting to get paid. I like to think that I inherited her luck. She was the kindest, sweetest women in the world. My life goal is to be just like her, to leave an impression that makes only good things come your way.

I would like to say that I have an endless amount of energy. Getting up early, making art, going to work, volunteering, and then having a show at midnight is a long day.

I wish I could say my secret to success is doing yoga everyday, juicing, and exercise. I don’t do any of those things. Since going vegan and being more aware of how much water I drink I have noticed a shift in my mood and energy gain.

I also decided that I will never do anything I don’t want to do ever again. I will not work for the MAN, I will only do things that make others stronger, I will only be what I love.

It is important to give your time to worthy recipients, life is too short to waste on bullshit. Make sure you are happy and your needs are met, take time to pamper yourself. Put the lotion on the skin. You are worth the time and effort.

My advice is to chill the fuck out, slow it down and stop worrying. Be a unicorn. Never act like a “grown up” but be responsible. Wear rainbows in the snow. Smile lots!

Love as hard as you can and be an open book, make it a comic book, and you are the hero. Fight for people who have less than you, never stop helping.

Being calm and smooth will give you an advantage over the other cogs. Be confident in your abilities and strong in your will. Always leave time for your bliss and remember to be spontaneous. They don’t know what you are going to do next.

Let each moment be a well orchestrated surprise. Drop jaws and panties.

I am a satisfied stoner who enjoys the creative explosion. I just know that I will get it all done and it will be perfect. If I cared about the deadlines I would be overwhelmed and my brain would become soup.

You have a strong shit show power inside of you. Believe in it, will things to happen, work hard, love freely, and everything else will fall into place. I know that everything I desire is attainable and I deserve it.

Being a shit show isn’t perfect, you will be late a lot, you will feel overextended most of the time, but you will change the world and yourself in the process. Don’t dream it, be it. Start this instant. GO!

Don’t panic. No, actually, its ok to panic!

There are a few moments in life that are completely mortifying. This is one of them if you deal with it improperly. That awkward moment when your current squeeze meets yesterdays squeeze and has no fucking idea.

Of course it makes sense that people you are attracted to will be attracted to each other in some way, but come on! What are the chances? I once walked into a bar and felt like it was the fucking Twilight Zone because everyone in there was in my pants at some point in time…

Oh hey person I lost my virginity too talking to my super ex from 3 years ago and the girl I have a crush on! Oh hey girl I made out with on the pride gay train six years ago holding hands with that other human I had fireworks with last year. Maybe I’m a whore, maybe I live in a small town, but sometimes it’s uncanny.

It is even more difficult to navigate bars and parties during the holidays. People who are normally far far away come home to make your life hell. You never know who you are going to run into, or who is related to who. We all have the same circle of friends. Everyone fucks everyone or at least knew someone who fucked that person or whatever. It’s a crazy twisted web. Le sigh.

Lets just use this scenario: You are seeing someone new. You meet them for coffee and talk about where you work. He says, omg, I know someone who works there! Do you know (insert name here, we will use “Lady X” to protect the innocent)? You respond with, why YES, I know Lady X! She just so happens to be marrying my super ex, like the person I dated for a bunch of years, she ACTUALLY cheated with him while he was dating me, she fucked him while he was with me and now the are getting married, oh yea and she is pregnant with his evil demon seed, RIGHT? (heavy breathing and hair disheveled at this point)

Sips coffee like nothing happened. Strange kind of serial killer smile on your face. Eye is twitching.

“Ummmmmmmm, yea,” is all they say in response to your manic tantrum. She was like a friend of a friend he knew in high school, hasn’t seen her in years, and definitely had no need to know all of that drama llama. You done fucked up son. You clearly shared too much and created a crisis where it didn’t need to happen.

Too much sharing is not caring. This is uncomfortable and bad for all involved. It’s hard, though. People put you in a spiral, you are entangled in that history, triggers are real!

Let’s try a different scenario: playing it cool. You have to work and your new love goes to your favorite bar. She sees a band and thinks you will like them. She even goes as far as singing the lyrics to one of their fucking songs.

Of course one of the members of said band is someone you used to be creepily obsessed with in an unrequited way. Of course you know all the words to all of their songs, you have been a groupie, you have been more than a groupie. You used to go to sleep at night with this person’s face behind your eyes, thinking that the world would end because they didn’t love you back. Relationships were severed and things got WEIRD… but you won’t tell her that.

There was a time when you would have told that whole thing to anyone with ears. Now you remain silent. Do you tell her that the former love of your life is in that band and that their songs are all triggers and that you probably have PTSD and are lucky that you can even love again after this?

You can do it. Hold back the urge to share all the gooey unrequited love and gory nasty breakup deets. All of this happens in one moment, a moment that may seem insignificant to your significant other but definitely seemed to go on forever in your broken little mind.

You play over all the ways it can work out, bite your tongue. Don’t go into this right now, it’s a terrible sad idea that will ruin your current bliss. You will spiral back to the depths of a sad abyss where there is still hope with your old flame.

This is NOT a sign that the universe wants you to crawl back into the hell hole. YOU ARE BETTER THAN THAT! BE STRONG! This urge is stronger than heroin. You pause before saying simply “Yeah, I’ve heard of them”… crisis averted. Good girl.

Holding back certain details is not lying. It’s being healthy. Some things really don’t matter in the present time. Relish in your current joy. It is over for a reason. Moving on is good.

Don’t let that black cloud follow you forever. Let the sun shine in. Expel the negativity forever and focus on the beating heart that loves you back right now. Maybe in the future have a conversation about it, but it probably isn’t even necessary.

Wipe that space in your mind clean, clear the clutter, and let your wings flutter. Live life in the moment. It’s a fantastic day to be alive.

Sometimes things happen, life happens, a kiss on the cheek turns to lust, turns to action, then a break of trust. How can you navigate heartache and bliss within yourself and every other person that your current person has ever slept with?

I am guilty of a disregard or lack in judgement, not caring about eventual consequences while in the moment. I didn’t make anyone want me. They acted first. They wanted me and I am solely to blame? I don’t think so. It takes two to tango sister.

Sure, I could have said something and put the nail in the coffin sooner, but thats not what I wanted. I knew it was going to be the eventual outcome, so I got deeper and deeper into deceit. Keeping out the details.

I lost a friend because I slept with her ex. Plain and simple. I never planned it and certainly didn’t mean to hurt anyone. It happened, I knew that as soon as it came to a head I would lose a friend over it. I just did my best while I was in her life and I hope everything else works out. I know she feels betrayed and thinks I’m a piece of moldy trash.

In reality I thank him for coming clean. I am glad to not be living with a secret, full disclosure is important to any relationship. Losing friends is a good time for emotional spring cleaning. I cannot and will not talk to either of them ever again. There is no coming back from this.

All of the anger and hate is focused on me because she is still in love with him. She can forgive him because she wants to claim him forever. That’s fine, he loves her too, they can be a beautiful entity forever. I never wanted to be in a relationship with anyone. It was just a fleeting moment.

It is not right to put it all on my shoulders, that says that he is just an object, thoughtless, incapable of fucking up. We cannot let people off the hook for the decisions they have made. He left her before he kissed me. Of course I am not innocent, I could have said no, but I didn’t. I am not entirely to blame either.

I am a deviant slut and he is an angel. I am to blame for everything. This is everything that feminism fights against. Relationships are not property! I do not claim to manage any of my partner’s sexuality. That is rape culture. I did not force anyone to want me. I did not put a magical spell on them or throw myself at them.

Blaming “the other woman” is toxic, competitive, and oppressive. We are pitted against each other to compete for a small crew of “good men”. Women get chastised and blamed even by other women. Shame the slut and cast her away like a used condom.

How can you hold claim over someone when you had someone else? You can’t “keep” every person that you have ever been with. I know the “bro” code is a thing, but I don’t truly understand because people are not objects. You do not own the person you are dating, especially after a break up. Relationships are a daily choice, a mutual trust, not an obligation. Things change.

Every action has a reaction. I have never pursued a person who was in a relationship, but someone who is single and willing and barking up my tree doesn’t come along every day. I have been single for a very long time, never really looking, just waiting to see what comes next in the adventure.

I have come to the conclusion that this city is too small (I mean this city as any city). This world is too small and everybody is somebody’s ex. I can’t change the past. I will live in the smite zone and must deal with the fact that someone I used to love feels that I am a succubus-swine-dirty-cunt-homewrecking-whore.

Alcohol and I don’t mix. I am second guessing my whole attraction to the party scene, I just don’t want to be a clouded disaster anymore. Also, and more importantly, it’s bad for my body.

Why do I have to be drunk to dance and meet people? I have more meaningful relationships that begin with chance meetings at art openings or while volunteering, nothing good has ever come out of the bar. It’s just a place to spend money and waste away. Pay to rot in the darkness while everyone is trying to get their dick sucked. Bumping around at last call to find someone just as drunk as them to bump uglies with.

Going out all the time is a game. You see the same people, spending their money, playing pool, throwing back beers and shots, looking more attractive to each other by the second.

When you are the only sober person in the group it is interesting. You can see the dark side of the depressant that is alcohol. People spiral out of control and act a fool. Barely able to walk or create sentences, bumbling, spilling, spending money, desperation, mindlessly grabbing for any shred of connection they can get. Nobody realizes how silly the whole thing is if everyone is drunk.

I have noticed a disturbing trend among my friends: everyone is fucking depressed. People are drinking to forget instead of to enjoy. To medicate instead of celebrate.

Like every other person with fading youth I have dabbled in alcoholism, been the girl who made all of the bad decisions. I have taken cabs home with strange men and women. I have woken up next to a person that I never remembered even meeting, let alone fucking.

Taking advantage of a drunk person is RAPE! What kind of feminist has such little self respect that the only way she can get some is by getting black out? You must respect yourself. The difference of good people who do bad things sometimes and bad people who do good things sometimes isn’t clear when you are inebriated.

For me being sober has a better chance of leading to ghosting – the art of sneaking out without saying goodbye. I know this can be bad, people may wonder “WTF happened to Cat?” A lot of times my friends get pissed, but most times people don’t even notice I am gone. Everyone is drunk and wrapped up in their own worlds, trying to get fucked or make a meaningful connection, pounding beers.

If I feel un-engaged I will bounce. I keep imagining how much nicer my bed full of kitties and books is than this dingy ass bar.

I have been inspired by a couple of my friends who have been reading books in the corner of the bar. This is a great upgrade from texting away. My bestie said that more people came and sat next to her when she was reading over texting or just drinking and staring off into the abyss. Being in your own head is more approachable. Being smart is attractive.

I find that my greatest sadness and isolation happens when I am in a full room of people, most of which I know and love, and I drink. Once I drink a wave of darkness comes over me. I am lonely in a way that is incomprehensible.

I often feel socially awkward when in a bar situation. I can’t hear enough to conversate. I really get pissed off by drunk men above all, the worst are the flaming bro douches. The ones with oozing testosterone and backwards hats, the ones who flex their muscles while drinking their Labatt Blue. I have no time for your bullshit. Reading a book in the well lit corner is better than getting your ass grabbed by scumbags any day.

I am not going to preach about any kind of lifestyle choices because I cannot rule you, I am only in charge of my own actions. I can understand why people go straightedge. Being focused and strong, making sure they are ready to fight for the revolution. Giving up drugs because your friends are dying, your little brothers and sisters are overdosing. Live because they died. Cops killing in the name of the racist war on drugs, quick money, and it all goes by in the blink of an eye.

Never judge anyone for not drinking or partaking in drugs. Respect every person’s right to choose. They will be the people you look too when you are messed up and need help at 4am.

How can I expect to have a real connection with someone that I consistently meet at 4am at a bar? He is always fucked up. Singing and dancing like a sprite, perfect to the sight, no idea how bright. So beautiful, but not cogniscant of what I am capable of. I will keep you warm and fed, I will hold you when you are sad, I will travel to the end of the world with you, holding hands against adversity. I want to be someone’s everything kind of love.

Yet I grasp for straws.

I hate that moment when someone decides they are not interested. Hot guy comes up and initiates conversation, it’s going well, we are both laughing, then all of a sudden “I need to get a drink.” He goes to the bar, gets his drink, and walks away like we were never talking.

LAME. I don’t want to monopolize someones time, but it’s kind of rude to walk away with no viable explanation. I’ts not like he owed me anything, but come on. He then started talking to a smaller, cuter girl. Typical.

People fight with their significant others only when they are both drinking. Some people only get the balls to communicate when they drink. Important things that should be discussed with a clear mind are haphazardly thrown on the table.

There is something so wrong about fuzzy conversation, basing your decisions on the clouded mind of a drunk. Like Kimya Dawson says: “Without 40 ounces of social skills I’m just an ass in the crack of humanity.” I am socially inept, downright scared to talk to people when I am out of my comfort zone. But to be fair, sometimes I isolate myself by going out in full makeup and costume after one of my shows. I would be afraid to talk to me, too.

As a bartender I was definitely a therapist. I did not like drinking while I worked for that reason. I know a lot of bartenders who think otherwise. It really got to me after awhile, seeing the effect it had on people made it not appealing. There is nothing sexy about drunk people.

Being a bartender is HARD! stressful work. People are basically on vacation and some treat you like a common slave. I can’t be fake nice for a tip anymore. I have a tip for you, don’t be a misogynist asshole and go fuck yourself. How’s that for a tip?

Do you really know someone if you only see them when they are all fucked up? IS that them? If someone is drunk more often than not does that define them? Are they just “a drunk” now? That’s sad.

I don’t want to think that. Sobriety provides clarity and focus, not hiding behind the false good feels. I don’t want to be an asshole anymore. People get mean when they drink and make excuses. “Oh I only smoke when I drink.” “Oh I only do coke when I drink.” “Oh I only beat my wife when I drink.” “Oh I only smash up my car and kill entire families when I drink.”

Moderation is everything, I know that, but sometimes you just gotta dry out and start over. I have never had a bad reaction with marijuana. Cocaine is not a social drug. People end up in the bathroom, then tweak out, nobody wants to share it because it’s so expensive. Weed is about community, a peace pipe, I am always happy to pass the joint. Alcohol is also a party substance that people are happy to share. Arriving with a case of beer can save the party.

Most are trying to fill a void with liquor and drugs. Alcohol is social fuel for the terminally awkward. Our generation is confused. Real honest connections are blurred.

It is lovely to be the one who can keep their shit together among an incapacitated crowd. The responsible one, the human that you look for when shit gets too weird. The party hero. Carrying around a solo cup full of water.

Clarity now, the fog has lifted and I can see your true colors. Now is the time to take chances, be weird without alcohol. An aggressive drunk girl can seem pathetic, but an aggressive sober girl is different.

People can be uncomfortable around sober folks, so don’t brag about being sober, drink your water and act a fool. The only one stopping you from having an amazing time is yourself.

Cheers,

Cat

Is hugging just plain weird? Hugs not drugs. Free hugs. Cheek to cheek bodies entangled. A pat, a brief squeeze, or a firm grip. There is something incredibly magical about the transfer of energy between two people. The touching of bodies in a warm embrace, a gesture of kindness and love.

But there can be a dark side to hugging. You can trigger all kinds of stuff by thinking you are just innocently hugging someone. It is no different than rape. The key is consent, making sure that the person you are about to hug wants to be hugged.

Personal space is always to be cherished and respected. You cannot assume anything about anyone, you don’t know if someone was abused or just doesn’t like to be touched.

Someone you normally hug may not want the hug this time. Do you ever have days where you just don’t feel like being social? There have been times I have felt obligated to hug someone because they wanted it. I wouldn’t just sleep with someone because I know they wanted it! Hugging should be no different.

I am calling myself out on being an offender of taking away other’s freedom with my free hugs. I have hugged someone and immediately regretted it. I have been a hug rapist. I have also been guilty of lingering too long, making the hug uncomfortable by accident.

If someone is pulling away let them. Do not be too aggressive or squeeze the life out of someone. Don’t force yourself onto anyone, ever.
 It really is a personal thing, so yea, I think it is weird to hug someone when you first meet them, even if you are being introduced by someone you both know and hug. A hug goodbye on a first meeting may be appropriate with proper consent of course. A hug hello can be amazing between say two people who haven’t seen each other in awhile. Running toward each other at the airport. The hug is obviously wanted by both parties, they yearn for it. When they finally collide in a rush of squeeze it is beautiful. This is the hug people dream about later.

Human contact is so important. We feed off of each other. A good hug with consent is like no other feeling in the world. You can literally feel the energy merge.

 

I feel the need to offer a hug to people I love when they are sad. Putting a sobbing human into yourself is intense, you take in all of their negative energy and try so hard to rub off your positivity into them. Comforting another human is a raw and pure basic instinct.

I find myself taking on a maternal role with some of my younger friends sometimes. I am fairly certain that I am never going to have children, so I don’t mind sharing my energy with others, hugging the world that wants to be hugged.

Children often are the victims of unwanted hugs. I remember being hugged by a lot of adults. It was confusing because I knew I was not supposed to talk to grown ups, you know stranger danger, be aware. Then I would meet family friends or whatever and they would go in for the hug immediately. Red flag bro! I don’t even know you! Why would you put a kid in that situation. It will cause a lifelong fear of intimacy.

A lot of people do not like hugs. Never assume someone wants it. Always ask, even if body language suggests otherwise. If they say no offer a handshake, fist bump, or a wave. Don’t ever just “Oh we are friends” and go for it, if you do that you are not a good friend.

The double cheek kiss is an odd greeting to me too. Nobody has time for a cheek full of someone else’s lipstick traces, but that’s for a different blog.

Just remember, consent, consent, consent! Oh, and I hate when people go in for the hug when I am just done performing and still topless. No bad touch. Be considerate and respectful to others at all times. “May I hug you?” See that’s easy!

“Nobody is superior, nobody is inferior, but nobody is equal either. People are simply unique, incomparable. You are you, I am I.” -Osho

I constantly have this deep seeded problem of not thinking I am in someone’s “league” or I am not their “type”. I can’t compare myself to people’s ex girlfriends or current obvious infatuations. But… she was thinner than me, bigger boobs, more covered in tattoos, shorter, less like a giant, perfect skin, more of this, less of that.

As a defense mechanism I don’t often allow myself fall for people because I know that I don’t have a “chance” and that’s so stupid. Especially if it’s someone I have known for a long time. I see their history, the people they often gravitate towards, they are nothing like me because they are unlike anyone but who they are. A lot of times people are attracted to those who share similar qualities as their selves.

I think to myself, why would she want me when her ex was so perfect? Well, she must have not been THAT perfect or they would still be together, right? You never know what kind of evil lurks inside someone who may be aesthetically good to look at.

I know that I am more than what I look like. How people are intimidated but I am timid. I am scared to open up my heart but not to take off my clothes. I will do more on the stage than I will in the bedroom due to insecurities of the flesh. I feel so awkward. I need to remind myself that everyone feels that way. Everyone is insecure, feels like they have something to cover up.

It’s also shitty for me to compare people to my exes, who are a varied group of humans. In theory I am attracted to tall men and a certain kind of woman. That is such bullshit, I’m calling myself out on it. How can I compare a man to a woman to someone who is trans or non-binary?

I would lie to say that someone’s looks do not play a part in it, but it is not everything. I love talent, people who are not afraid to let whatever their weirdness is out.

Everyone is so unique and special. I have to take the too shortness and too tallness, the too fatness and the not smart enoughness, the not right for me, not right now thoughts inside my brain and flush them down the toilet like a dead goldfish. These thoughts and insecurities are so foul and bad for the environment that they are like a toxic shock tampon clogging up the pipes.

That goldfish should have never been in a tiny bowl. It is not fair to trap beauty in a stagnant little space, on display, tap, tap, tapping on the glass. So beautiful yet so alone, knows nothing else.

“Would you rather be alone or with someone who makes you feel lonely?” – NYC Tinder Clown

Being by yourself is not lonely. I have felt alone in the arms of a lover because I cannot let go of my wall. I have felt alone in the arms of a lover because they built a wall so tall and strong that my love could not scale it. I have felt alone in the arms of a lover because there is no lover at all, never was, and I am swimming in the mote. I will not feel alone if I love the troll in the mote that is my home. I am a mud woman in search of her troll. Let’s writhe in our palace of filth!

My friend reminded me that people often overlook the things you think are a big deal. The hot cook where she works bent down and she was checking out his ass, his shirt came up in the back revealing a red patch of psoriasis, she noticed it but it did not make him any less appealing to her.

It’s like during a show when you think you fucked up a big move or moment, then everyone cheers anyways. They had no idea what your expectations of that performance were. You are the only one who knows anything was wrong.

All of the things you think are wrong about yourself are not a big deal to anybody else. Never compare yourself to what society wants you to look like. Even those perfect models are not happy in their skin.

 

Why do people seek out clones of themselves to date? Like it could only make sense if we “match”. I have been on dating sites nearly as long as I have been dating, what the fuck does that say?

As soon as the almighty internet came into place people started using it to have sex and find sexy things to look at. I wish to exist in a time without all of that, where people just meet and hang out and discover their attraction in person. It’s always so exciting and unexpected when you find yourself crushing on someone.

There is no guess in online dating. If the person is being honest, they have already told you their life story and ambitions and been put through a computer program with you to determine compatibility.

I have had my OK cupid profile for like eight years or something like that. My photos were all old, it hadn’t been updated, it still said “omnivore” and I am vegan. That is a big life change that the computer did not know about me.

It is interesting to see the things that haven’t changed. I still don’t want kids. I still have cats and like dogs. I am not still “bi-sexual” though, because I now realize that I never was, I am pansexual because I do not believe in the gender binary. Gender is fluid. Pansexual was not an option when I first set up the account and now it is. That’s an improvement, but still another sign of inaccuracy.

I still just take that experience as a realization that people are ever evolving. An online profile may have sort of represented that person in the moment that they made it, but things change. Minds change every moment. You have to chose to live in the now and realize when you have made a mistake.

No matter how sexy someone is, no matter how “great” their ass is, shit still comes out of it. Humans are all gross and weird, we all have pasts, we all have done things that we are ashamed of, we have all hurt and been hurt by others.

To compare my struggle to someone else’s doesn’t make sense, so why do I do it with my body? I am always so self conscious of my skin. I have psoriasis over most of my body. But its not really ruining my life, is it?

I still get paid to take my clothes off, I just don’t get down to bare skin. I keep my scaly legs and ass covered in fishnets. I get scared thinking that I will end up in bed with someone then in the morning they will see what the fishnets and ambient lighting have been hiding this whole time.

It’s true that you can’t compare humans, but the loves of my life currently are about 10 pounds and covered in fur. Cats > Humans. Nobody will love and cuddle me like my kitty babies. I need to just enjoy that, relish in the small things that are actually huge.

There is a blizzard of emotions within me. I am clouded by my own awareness. Not everything is about sex, but isn’t it natural to want sex? We all want to feel loved and desirable.

I am not an expert on anything, especially dating. I am experienced in heartbreak and general confusion. I have been broken up with, cheated on, made to feel less than I should.

I have felt alone in the arms of my “lover” because I knew they were waiting around for something better. Better is not thinner or less covered in scales, better is me loving myself more and realizing that all humans are flawed and perfect in their own right.

Hyperfast digital force blasting from all directions.. This reality is a twisted science fiction novel, it is a bad episode of Black Mirror, it is terrifying and exhilarating. I have a hard time thinking about anything other than impending doom. 1984 looms over us like a set of guidelines instead of a dystopian nightmare that it really is.

I was born in 1986, two years after doomsday. Imagine being born now? What will children born now get to see? Humanity is crumbling like a gingerbread house on Valentines’s Day.

I often think we are just a figment of some dark overactive imagination. I don’t know if it’s comforting or terrifying to think that we are so small and vast at the same time, all contained within a teardrop or fleeting moment. Big brother is watching, but I am an only child.

I am NOT the center of any universe and I am not going to be shut down. I am just a satellite revolving around a rock in space. Sex is on the backburner. I haven’t written about love in awhile because it hasn’t been a concern of mine.

I am sick of thinking about what other people are thinking about me. Does he like me? Does she think I’m sexy? Does he want me? Does she like “like” me? Or naw? I’m confused, I know I am worthy so why isn’t this easier? There is so much more.

I worry too often about what people think of me. I should spend less time dreaming about a mate and more time dreaming about the changes I need to spearhead immediately. Most of those changes reside within myself, I control my own destiny still right?

I am an artist. I am a catalyst. I am a psychedelic force to be reckoned with. I will not give up just yet. Put light on shaded issues, shed safety on the lonely, and make people feel loved with open arms, hearts, and kitchens.

Go on walks and say hello to everyone you see. Have random conversations with people, you never know who you will talk to. People are interesting and vast pools of knowledge, we need to learn from each other. It is like eating local honey, getting exposed to the native pollen of your people, the collection of ideas from your neighbors. It is happening all around you, be a bee, do not let yourself become extinct.

Nobody will protect you, certainly not the oppressive government. Nature is not safe, resist, do more than cut the plastic rings from pop cans. Do not endanger the species of the open hearted, the free spirited youth that lives in us all.

We are the colorful tag in the garbage dump. We are the spot of glitter in a dustpan. Sparkle. We must defy the ban on individuality that is keeping us on a blank slate, we must graffiti it with importance, messages of revolution and distinction. Rebellion is necessary, the thought police will not take me, not without a fight of mass proportions. Be dirty, be bold, stop for no one.

Art is not a lost dream. I met two different people today that had a dream of being in the arts before giving up and going into law. They were both staying in the hostel taking the NYS Bar exam, which of course is hard. If it wasn’t difficult they wouldn’t want it so bad.

So many people who stayed here are the ones who will change the world. One went to school in NYC- the same school that Woody Allen went to- to study film. He said it was just expensive and cut throat. The beauty he wanted to capture was clouded by the dark reality of the world. He gave up due to the competition and greed, then went into law where that just doesn’t exist, haha. Another girl was a theatre major and then switched to law when she didn’t see any money in the arts.

I knew there would be no money, but who needs that when you have passion and motivation? I am in the process of helping to organize a show for Women’s Month, and I have the chance to make sure it is Intersectional and all inclusive. This is revolution! Taking charge and make sure things are right.

Sometimes you just need a walk around the block. Breathe in the global warming induced indian summer. I feel so satisfied. Former cow a year now vegan. Former stage fright now fearless ONLY on the seduction of the stage, the lights amplify my rage. I will never dance in a cage.

I must sing, the cat on the outside of the bars salivating for the soft sweet feast. Gently weeps the trapped Bird of paradise. Watching you trip so eloquently getting older, under the sea vagina fish. Why are you barking? Untamed growing beast trying to assert her dominance. A squeaky toy that has been de-squeaked. Torn to shreds a dead interlude, a break between bliss. Better than silence.

I can’t go to a Black Lives Matter rally and then go to a white supremacist’s birthday party. I want to enter radio station contests and go on internet dates. I am an island in a golden sea of polyamarous couples. I am a dumpster orange now in the back of a car filled with protest signs. I am now important fuel for the revolution. It will be fed.

Feast on waste. Alternative and creative sustainability. I love my furry family. I met a woman who was me in the future, she lived above a bong shop and dated men half her age. We agreed that most animals are better than people and androgyny is beautiful. Hey! Look! My cat did all the dishes! When was the last time your boyfriend did that?

Navigating holiday parties is tough for someone with poor impulse control such as myself. If I am told that I have three hours open bar I will take advantage of it. Three doubles and five shots later I am hugging a garbage can wondering where my beard is.

I wake up in my bed (thank god) with no bottoms, not even socks, and fully dressed on top, coat and all. Oh, there’s the beard, it was around my neck the whole time, right where it belongs. Is that lipstick or blood? God, I hope that’s red lipstick.

Nobody wants to be “that guy” at a holiday party. But that very guy is inside all of us just waiting for a few drops of alcohol to awaken his soul and activate party mode.

Drunk lesbian Santa is what makes Christmas beautiful. It’s not the children, it’s not the presents, it’s not the cheer or good will, it’s the wild and unabashed star on top of the tree that is the almost mythological drunk lesbian Santa.


I think about a lot of stuff around the holidays, missing my grandmothers, helping set up the tree. Just trying to hold it together when my family gets mad because I want to eat vegan, trying to be kind instead of combative. The holidays stress a lot of folks out. I try to deal with it by being numb and last minute.

I have not bought a single gift. Now I have like three days to shuffle around with all the last minute dads of the world to find those perfect morsels of gifts. Consumerism is crap, holidays are about celebrating and cherishing those you love right?

We have decided to throw a New Years Eve party this year instead of trying to deal with the let down of the bar scene. I want to get drunk and be safe, make sure all of my party people are safe too.

Here are 10 tips for throwing a kick ass holiday house party! Nobody wants to just be sitting around eating chips and dip listening to Bing Crosby. It’s also unrealistic to think that every house party is going to look like a scene from Animal House. You are in control of this party. The music, the food, the guests, the decorations, the venue, all of it.

  1. Invitees: The guest list is an important factor. Does everyone get along? Make sure to not be crazy like I am and accidentally get invite happy and spread your net too wide. Make sure you invite someone who can be a bouncer of sorts if things get out of control. Also invite someone who plans on being sober or mostly aware just in case there is a knock on the door from the cops or something else serious happens. Things can escalate very quickly, beware. Do you go with just the Facebook invite? Nah, invite some people in person, perhaps make a flyer or get some Lisa Frank Invitations and make people feel exclusive. Invite your neighbors so they don’t call the cops on you.
  2. Have Activities: Beer pong is always a winner, a deck of cards, or even some Cards Against Humanity. Nobody likes a boring party. These things should not be main attractions but rather backup plans. Make sure everyone is introduced. This way all of these friends of you and your roomies can come together and form new friendships. No babysitting of socially awkward friends.
  3. Hide All The Breakables: Turn your house into a kid friendly zone. Possibly cover everything in plastic like you are about to American Psycho the whole party. Put all the pets away, cats can easily escape when partygoers aren’t paying attention to the doors and dogs can be provoked by the drunks. Basically treat your animals like children, keep them safe and not afraid.
  4. Have Plenty of Room on the Dance Floor: Parties need stages. Each stage must have proper lighting for the goal. You need a dance floor (flashing lights, disco ball, fog machine optional), food and bar area well lit and accessible. And last but not least a stoner smoking den (very dimly lit) with lots of couch space and maybe some crazy triply cartoons playing in the background with no sound. Make sure the music is loud enough and on point, a mix of the classics and new cool stuff that fits the mood is necessary. Be mindful of changes in the crowd and feel of the party too so you can tweak the music to perfection. Everyone can be a DJ who has a laptop and some taste. KEEP THE MUSIC UPBEAT! Never ever let some depressing stuff pop in and be the Debbie Downer to your good vibes.
  5. No Zones: Block off all of the “no zones” so people aren’t trying to have sex in your roommates’ rooms. We are lucky that all of our bedrooms are upstairs so it is as easy as setting the bar up in front of the staircase.
    If that’s the party you are going for- orgy status that is- turn the whole place into a heart shaped mattress and make sure there are plenty of condoms around.
  6. Get a lot of Mixers: People will bring bottles of whiskey but forget the ginger ale. Equal opportunity drunk fest. BYOB means mostly bring your own booze, but with some exceptions. As a great host you should provide some libations. The more you have, consider having a donation jar or charging a small cover.
  7. Randos: Be careful of randos and underage drinking, this is very serious. If someone leaves your party and hurts someone or gets hurt, you are responsible too! Try to grab everyone’s keys, elect (and/or pay someone to be) a responsible key holder to call cabs for those who are too drunk to live but can’t spend the night. Perhaps the person who got the most fucked up at the last party and had to be babysat would be a great key holder.
  8. Food: Food selection should be diverse- something for everyone. Make sure the vegans are happy! I have gone to so many parties with just pizza and wings, the only vegan option being the celery and carrot platter, LAME.
  9. TP: Make sure you have plenty of toilet paper
  10. Clean Up: Prep for clean up. Set up trash receptacles and places to put recyclable empties to make clean up easier after the fact. Stock up breakfast food for the next day survivors (they will help you clean and you will feed them for it).

Nothing ever works out if you expect it to be perfect. Remember this is all supposed to be a fun celebration of love and debauchery. At the end of the day all of your rules and planning will go out the window, and that’s ok!

Finally, don’t be the most ratchet person at your party, everyone will remember.

Usually I know what I want as soon as I see it. With things it is easy, just buy or steal it. With people it’s different, there are things like consent and the need for mutual attraction to contend with. Being denied is one of the most terrifying things there is. It can feel overwhelming or embarrassing to put yourself out there, to make yourself vulnerable.

Wanting, yearning, waiting, waiting…. why wait when you can take? Why wait when life is so precious and short? The time is now, life cannot be wasted on waiting for things to happen to you. If you want someone, tell them! Obviously consent is the key, if you put it out there and they want it then you got the dream. If not you can move on, no more wasting time on yearning for someone who doesn’t feel the same.

Making the first move is all about reading the signs, a person’s body language says it all. How is the conversation? Light and upbeat is a good flow, don’t get too heavy and definitely don’t mention your ex or that you are on a quest for true love.

Are they making eye contact? Eye contact equals confidence. Is there any touch? Are they listening to you? There is no reason to go straight to number one, ease into things. While being slutty is fun, if you really like someone take it slow. Hugs, touching on the leg or shoulder, or anywhere else can be as erogenous as sex. Being flirty and direct on your intentions is a wonderful start to any new romance.

i want you

I have been in situations where I was attracted to someone for several years before making any kind of move. Even when I get shot down I take it in stride.

I have been told that I am intimidating. I need to stop thinking that people are out of my league, we are all on the same team, humans trying to touch each other’s butts. Yes or No, you like me back or I can finally move on.

That first kiss is something that you will never forget if you do it right. I remember my first First Kiss, I was 14 and innocent. I was walking with a group of friends and one of the guys told me I was beautiful, I responded with “It’s Dark” and then he kissed me. It was sloppy and fast, I have never been the same since.

I liked it, a lot. We made out in a basement that night. That much physical contact and teenage lustiness was astounding to me. I remember our tongues wrestling and me not knowing how to deal with the drool.

My favorite memories in life are those moments right before a first kiss. Things are going good, this beautiful human is here with me, they want this too, uncertainty melts away when they lean in or don’t run away when you advance. There is a surge of electricity, a sickness in your guts, you feel like there is about to be an explosion and your body will turn into rays of sunshine and music.

YES, THEY WANT IT! Your lips lock, tongues twist, licking, sucking, biting, nuzzling, smiling between breathes, as subtle waves of loveliness envelope your existence and justify all of the butterflies. Worth the wait, you linger. Wondering why it took so long, but happy that you waited for the perfect moment.

romanceFuck the concept of a perfect moment. I often wait for the stars to align, hoping that the right person will just appear, ready and willing, in my arms. It’s better to reach out and grab what you want, in the case of love bad things happen to those who wait.

I have sat by and watched too many people get “found” by someone else. I may have loved them for years, but due to my fears they never knew. If I could have just opened my mouth maybe they would have opened their hearts?

Instead they now “belong” to a new lover, which is a hard concept for me to wrap my fingers around. Love is not ownership, it is companionship, it is wanting to share adventures and help each other through tribulations.

I would never want to be in a relationship that stifled any part of my being. It is about celebrating each other and continuing to keep doing what it is that makes you wonderful.

Years pass, crushes come and go, you are still there, I am slow. I want to squeeze you tight. That girl kept talking, all I wanted her to do was start walking so I could “say goodnight.” Finally she left without a fight. I leaned into the car and onto those perfect lips. I wished it would have lasted longer, but it felt like pure magic. I was bursting from the seams, skipping down the street with joy. I did it! Now it’s all I can think of. I feel so scared that I want to run! I want to run my fingers down every inch of your perfect porcelain skin, put my face in the dark places of your loveliness.

I don’t know how to navigate relationships. I feel like a little kid chasing the ice cream truck and it never stops. The music taunting me, the dollar bill in my hand getting sweaty, pressed up against my handle bars.

I can’t expect anyone to make the first move, nobody can read my mind. Put yourself out there, don’t let fear ruin or consume you. If you like someone tell them! Tell them twice, tell them everyday. Treat every kiss like a first kiss.

The main problem with my life is that I am afraid of falling. I used to jump off of swings and fly through the air. Now I ride a tricycle so I don’t fall off of it.

I only regret the things I haven’t climbed. I know I have missed out on beautiful views because I didn’t have the guts to grab them. I’ve never done a cartwheel. I didn’t have the guts to grab a lot of things.

I never blame the people who “broke my heart” because it was never them who broke it, it was me. I wasn’t ready, I was afraid to fall. Then I would see them with their new happiness. I thought I wanted that, I can do better.

afraid cyclistI was supposed to finish this blog last night but I went to the beach instead. I lived my life instead of moping in my head. Sweating in my bed. Spent time with friends. I got in the fucking van. I don’t need any man. I can!

But, I still want you, I want you so bad, I want what I am not, I need what I just can’t have, someone else’s sweet reality is my dark fantasy, what lengths is a person willing to take to get what they think they need?

She’s got it, how’d she do it? I want that! No, I can’t. The big green monster lurking through the shadows and fully lit spaces and sometimes even in your wallet. You can’t always get what you want, especially instantly.

Money doesn’t equal success in the same way fame does not equal happiness. Fortune is in moments of discovery and kindness. Life is magic but there is also required work. Nothing is lounging on a silver platter.

Being greedy and selfish is a social atomic bomb. Stop being a spoiled white girl, a life full of privilege and decadence. You need to fight fear and ignorance with self actualization and solidarity. Nobody is your entire world but you. How do you shape your own reality?

For one I know I can be a big fat only child Amurican hippocrit. It’s ok for me to have desires and no expectations when it comes to a relationship but as soon as I see my “other” with someone else I lose my damn mind. At the end of the day it all boils down to my lack of self worth and confidence. Whenever I find someone with even the least amount of interest in me I latch on clinger status, I yearn to be loved.

Where does this entitlement comes from? Maybe because I have been “pretty” my entire life, I just get what I want before I even know I wanted it. I was always fawned over with sweet decadence, something about being a little child of the corn blonde girl that really breaks all the hearts, or at least temporarily melts them with my piercing baby blues.

Its so funny when people say I am so intimidating that they couldn’t even talk to me let alone be my friend or get to know me. Because I do burlesque and hold my head up high it is assumed that my bad assitude is real. I am really much more simple than that. Wind gusting under my torn patchwork skirt, justifying my existence. Freedom, jealous of no one. Right On!

The only true way to get the one you want is to give them space when they need it, smothering gets you nowhere fast, believe me I’ve done it.

There is no magic formula for the perfect relationship. Life is like the seasons, we need to have the change, the snow is as important as the sun, the draught as important as the rain. It makes us stronger and more well rounded. Happiness and sadness, love and loneliness, acceptance and rejection. It’s important to embrace the strange complexities of our modern world.

Relationships are so different. Nothing is cut and dry, or sorry, forever… Labeling is hard. Polyamory is different from the free love movement because there is structure. Primary and secondary lovers combine to shape your dating topography. Different vocabulary.

Lonely but never alone if you love yourself. Don’t invest everything in nothing, you deserve respect. I have loved people so hard for so long and never said anything because I didn’t feel like I was worthy of them. Then after all of my silent pining, someone swoops. By taking control she got what we both wanted. She gets to travel the world as his girl.

riding trike

Unhappiness, trapped in a world you don’t fit into. There is a young couple on my street that has a child their car is all full of baby stuff and has a bumpersticker that reads “I’d rather be stage diving.”

I am NOT jealous of that life. That bumper sticker says so much. “I’d rather be ______(insert passion here)” is so depressing. My dad’s friend just got married and had his first baby in his late 50s. That’s happiness.

When I was a little girl I would love to play wedding and marry all the boys in the neighborhood. Then I would make my Barbie dolls have the most lesbian sex ever.

As I grow up I realize that I want it all, but fear has me pinned. If I only had gears and less emotional weight in my basket, I’d go faster.

At the end of the day, I am still afraid to fall. To fall of a bike, to fall in love, to fall off a mountain, to fall down the stairs. I need to rise above irrational fears and take more chances, get in more vans, and go on more adventures.

Traveling through California was a step, I need to do more of that. I can’t pine over people who don’t want me. Actively seek people who do want me, actually no, fuck that, stop seeking anybody and those who are worth it will withstand my silliness and be standing by my side when I need them to be.

Stop being so patient and grab it, time is of the essence. You are worth the risk. There are worse things than falling. You will always get back up and scraped knees are sexy.

To kick off ASK CAT, a new monthly advice column on FTB, Cat McCarthy dared her Facebook friends to ask her anything about Sex, Dating, Politics, Art, Feminism, Activism, LGBTQ issues, Drugs, Culture, etc. We published the first three responses and now the rest.

Now, it’s your turn. ASK CAT anything: Cat@ForgetTheBox.net

Dear Cat, What should I do if I wake up in between two dudes with cake smeared all over my chest, I’m wearing a 1980s blond wig, I’m thirsty, my feet are bound together, my nose is running and one of them looks like the messiah….while some famous director is filming me in his bloody underwear. Should I wait for an invite to the threesome?

– Melissa Campbell

Hi Melscamp! As you know from personal experience I am not the person to ask about joining into a threesome. While I have had several successful and life changing threeways in my life they don’t always end well for me. It will not work if you feel self conscious, if you feel like they are more interested in each other and not you, or if the girl doesn’t like you but the guy does and you would both rather just be with him. Threesomes must be mutual, all on the same playing field.

she lives richard simmons cat sinclairDid you smear the cake before you fell asleep? Is it tasty? Were you drunk or on drugs? Is this consensual? Are the guys hot? Is that REAL blood? Why is Dirty Jesus called that? Do you want this? Are you in the non-consent yurt? Is there a lambskin condom?

I know you are into some kinky shit, so in my opinion, YES, get into that threesome. Don’t be like me and wait for the invite, nobody is ever going to invite you, if you are already into it that far with them they want you there! Any self made flaws are not noticed in groupsex.

I once hooked with two friends, they answered the door wearing matching boxer briefs. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I was a goddess to them. Make sure you are being treated with respect and have a safe word. You are a goddess and I blame you for everything

Dear Cat, Which side of a double sided dildo is preferable?

– Velvet

cat noseHi Al! Well my dad always says “if you go to the right, you can’t go wrong,” so the answer is you must spin the dildo
around counterclockwise in the center of a lesbian boob circle and whichever way it lands pick the side to your right, add lube, and enjoy with a special friend on the left end.

Or I would also say inspect the dildo and pick the side with less cat hair stuck to it. Silicone dildos are big time attractors of cat hair (which is prevalent in most lesbian relationships, the most common owners of double ended dildos).

Got a question for Cat? Ask it: Cat@ForgetTheBox.net

Hello faithful readers! I don’t know if this is going to make me seem like more or less of a narcissist but I am going to be writing a monthly ASK CAT column for Forget The Box.

While I don’t claim to be a real expert on anything in particular, I do know that I am real. I have been through a lot in my life and can use my experiences to help you with any question you throw at me.

I will answer you blatantly and honestly, without a filter, and completely from the heart. I will answer anything from questions about Sex, Dating, Politics, Art, Feminism, Activism, LGBTQ issues, Drugs, Culture, or anything else you can think of.

Email your questions to Cat@ForgetTheBox.net and I will answer them ASAP in a monthly blog entry. (“Ask Cat” sounds like “Ass Cat” when said out loud)

I threw this idea out there to my Facebook friends and responded to the first six questions I received (my friends are f*cked up). Here are the first three, with three more to come next time:

Dear Cat, what are your thoughts on art expression over personal issues with waste? I feel a calling to do a photo shoot in a giant tub full of blue cheese for the sake of art because I feel like the Buffalo chicken wing of life. My problem is I can’t convince myself to waste all of that blue cheese. I recall some of your work with the Wesley Willis song “rock n roll McDonalds” and how you were able to incorporate food into the act. Some of the fries never made it to the mouth. How do we approach artist feats like this and overcome the guilt?

– Micheal

cat mccarthy ronald mcdonald clown burlesque

Hi Micheal! As you know I am very much against the issue of food waste in this world, I am a big activist for dumpster diving and Food Not Bombs, using food that would have otherwise been thrown away to feed the hungry. It is also true that I often use food in my performance.

It’s a catch 22. I want to make a comment on shitty corporate food and the accessibility of vegetables and healthy stuff, but still feel bad for wasting. I am a hypocrite when I throw out rotten leftovers or put compost in the trash, I am even more wrong when I ejaculate burgers and toss perfectly good french fries into an audience, half to be smushed on the floor, or smash a 100 cupcakes on my body dressed like Marie Antoinette, cover myself in galloons of pudding in response to Bill Cosby, rub donuts on my boobs dressed like a cop, or dressed like Colonel Sanders throwing chicken at someone who is texting.

I make comments about greed, consent,corruption, body image, and corporate waste with my art. My vision is to participate in the bad parts of society on a stage so people can become aware of the abject horror of reality, kind of like John Waters. It’s like there must be sacrifices made for the revolution to be a success.

wet dreamland pudding buffalo infringement

Nobody is perfect all the time, myself definitely included. Of course I feel bad about the fries on the floor when there are hungry mouths to feed. I guess where I was coming from with that is the food I was “feeding” to people is shit food with no positive nutritional value anyways, so I feel less guilty about that.

I fully support the idea of you submerging yourself in blue cheese, make sure it’s the good kind. Buy it, and put yourself in a claw foot tub in the middle of an art gallery. Lay in in naked, submerged.

cat fashionHave plates full of chicken wings, carrots, celery, pizza, all the vessels for blue cheese. Invite people to dip in your tub, see how long it takes, see how far they will go for blue cheesy goodness. Will they lick it off of your body? People are obsessed with that shit. People also get weird in the name of art.

Document the entire thing. The exhibit ends when the food is gone, nothing is wasted, and you can probably get a pizza shop to sponsor you. I once wore a dress sponsored by Mr. Pizza. It was a collaboration with Melissa Campbell called Upper Crust Punk, we literally bit every slice of pizza. It was a cathartic, gross indulgence in the name of fashion, there was a spittune. I was empowered by food.

When we made the PBR corset, some of the PBRs were dumped down the drain because they couldn’t physically drink anymore damn PBRs and there was a deadline. It was a sin! If I was there I would have shotgunned every single one of those PBRs, waste not want not,bro. Let them eat blue cheese! Let them scrape it off of your flesh!

Dear Cat, what happened last night? I know I showed up at the bar with $1.25 in quarters, the last shot I took made me black out, and I know I fell off my bike mounting on the way home because of a bruise on my arm and a scratch on my face. I think you were there dressed in white.

– Darren

Hi Daren! I remember seeing you at Nietzsches last night for the Stripteasers weekly bar show, I was dressed in white because we were doing a tribute to Prince and I was a crying dove.

What I assume happened is that people bought your fine ass some drinks, since the bar is cash only. You then were too drunk to bike and should have left your bike at the bar and gotten a ride home or walked.

Or perhaps you were abducted by aliens and drugged, not remembering the experience. The bruise and scratches were from the alien probing, not from a bike fall like you initially thought. Maybe I wasn’t there at all and the “girl in white” was some kind of extraterrestrial being.

I cannot let you know for sure what happened to you, but am happy you made it home safe with minimal damage. Stay safe dude! Use the buddy system in the future. Or be like me and get a trike, I never fall off that thing when drunk riding!

Cat cycling (3)

Dear Cat, I think that you are the cat’s meow! Were you always fearless or did you work up to it?

– Melissa

Hi Melissa! Thank you for the amazing compliment, you too are the cat’s meow! I think have always been pretty fearless (sometimes stupidly fearless)! My parents are amazing and taught me to only speak my mind and fight for what I believe in.

As a little kid I was the one who stated the blatantly obvious. I was a little feminist, fighting to play football with the boys. I love myself and fight for those who are afraid. It’s important to be strong and never give up on important things.

I am also a constant work in progress, I know that I continue to grow and learn each day. I can’t say I’m fearless. I definitely get afraid of walking upstairs from basements, that feeling that something evil is coming up after you to pull you down the dark rickety stairs is real.

Got a question for Cat? Ask it: Cat@ForgetTheBox.net

Everybody struggles with their identity. Step back and stop trying to be anything but authentic to find meaning in life. Be yourself and use your own unique set of skills to make this world a more sustainable place.

I am inspired daily by my friends’ strength. Everyday on Facebook (where the struggle is real) and in actual real life I have friends who are open about their HIV positive status, about being Transgender, or on the Autism spectrum, or recently broken free from abuse (from a person or an addiction), anything that can cast an unjust judgement should be set on the table with a proper place setting.

My life is full of humans who celebrate their beautiful and diverse humanity! Skinny or fat, black or white, red head or bald, gender fluidity, diversity and pride in your culture is the fruit of life. It is only society and the expectations of the patriarchy that ever told us differently.

Vanity masks insecurity. I hide behind my perfect teeth and Marilyn locks. Selfies instead of being selfless. Curse of the bleach blond material girl. That dark comes creeping in. Courtney Love, Madonna, and Debbie Harry are my style goddesses because they didn’t care.

There is a point where letting your roots hang out is sexy, it reminds you of who you are a little bit. I have been hiding behind blonde hair my entire life. I was born with it, I loved it, I identified with it. Then my hair started getting darker and I wasn’t having it! I highlighted at first and then went right for full throttle bleach blonde and haven’t turned back since.

I literally freak out if I dye it too much of another color. Its just like how I identify with being fat. I don’t know who I would be if I wasn’t a large blonde woman anymore. Buxom blonde is me, I cannot be a thin brunette.

What is a poser? People are entitled to change their mind, and sometimes in the beginning of that change they are  going to be considered posers. It’s like when I was a teenager and I decided that I really did like punk music, I wanted pink hair, a plaid skirt, and combat boots. I knew that it couldn’t come from Hot Topic or I would be shunned. I also knew that I wasn’t about that dirty blonde Gap t-shirt Old Navy denim white Nike kind of life anymore either.

Eventually I found out that it didn’t matter what you wore as long as it was yours. It is not cool to completely appropriate ANY culture that is not yours just for the sake of fashion. Of course it is cool to learn about other people’s perspectives and earn the chance to be part of their traditions, learn why they are there and respect their significance.

Be yourself, don’t ever try and be something you are not, but DO constantly re-invent yourself! Don’t ever feel trapped by who people think you are or what they expect you to be like.

My style is a mixture of 1950s housewife, 1980s teenager, and a crazy high school art teacher that is covered in cat hair. But sometimes I prefer to be a man. I like my Zubaz and American Pride gear, I like my unlatching Tevas with dirty knee high tube socks, I could go undercover at a Donald Trump rally and nobody would know the difference, satirically blasting David Alan Coe from a boombox.

american man
All I need is a dirty blonde lace front mullet wig with a matching mustache. That’s next level, with a little investment he will be believable even. I would no longer be just a girl in a wig,

I often wonder what I would look like if I was just left to my own devices and not brought up in the society that told me I had to be a girl because I was born with a vagina and not a penis. It’s not like my parents bought in though, I could have had GI Joes if I wanted them, I just really did love Barbies. I liked to dress them up and make them bang, didn’t everyone do that?

I went on fishing trips and had season tickets to the Buffalo Bills, always in places normally designated for just the boys. I took after my amazing grandma, her name was Fred (Mary Freda). Non gendered names are the best.

gay unicorns
Everyone is a sparkling  unicorn. We all need to get connected on this idea. If everyone treasured every life we would have no hate or war, no murder or conflict.

Take the time to curl your hair and use the sugar scrub, paint your toe nails neon pink. My toes aren’t mean for those with a foot fetish, you cannot suck on these toes.

My legs are hairy and covered in scales. I have always tried to compensate for my insecurities by making something else way more extravagant. If my hair and makeup is fancy and I have on a pretty dress nobody will notice how flawed the rest of me is.

I need to wake up and realize that there are NO flaws. I am ok being naked on stage or posing for art students but scared of being photographed nude because of my skin, the weight doesn’t bother me as much as the skin condition,

Disease is not beautiful. But in the last two days I have met two beautiful women who have the same stupid auto immune skin disease as I do. I didn’t judge their skin issues and they didn’t judge mine.

My life is as important as my cat’s life, or the life of a new born baby, or a 98 year old man, or a cow waiting to be slaughtered. Every being is perfect and worth it. There is no life that matters more than another life, we all are equal and beautiful.

I have the gift of bringing people or situations together. I’m an artist, I have a keen eye for seeing other people check each other out and even more so when it is one of my friends.

The most important part of being a great wingwoman is to know when to walk away. There is a fine line between a clingy friend and helping a bro out.

You can’t be in competition with your friends, the game is to motivate them. You have to boost your friend’s confidence and keep her looking good, no TP stuck to the shoe here.

Be the conversation starter if your friend is nervous, pump them up. Be a good cock block for your bro too, make sure nobody else tries to get in on your bud’s prospect.

It’s a beautiful sight to give your friend some words of advice, give them a hearty “Go get um tiger!” slap on the ass and watch the magic ensue. It’s important to adapt and blend into the wallpaper when necessary. You have to get them set up and make sure that your friend is consenting and wants this person.

Some techniques I use to seamlessly ghost out of a situation are going to the bathroom and never coming back, running to the car to smoke a bowl and never coming back, or just ghosting out with no explanation at all.

Leave your friend a “stranded” damsel in a dress. Oh no! my ride ditched me, guess I have to get a ride home from you while batting their eyelashes seductively.

My best wing woman moment was when I was visiting Florida. My friend lived there. She met this girl online and their first date was to drive upstate to get me and then we were going to go party in Miami.

We had an incredible night at a burlesque lesbian sushi bar that ended with us running out of gas on a six lane highway in the wee hours of morning. While we were waiting for a tow I was in the front seat. I told them to both go in back, I could feel the hot and heaviness coming on. So I pretended to fall asleep. They checked me several times to make sure I was legit sleeping to be respectful, and then got hot and heavy in the back. My eyes were glued shut so it was the best porno ever, my imagination is better than anything.

A Cat success story
A Cat success story
They are now engaged. Months later when she popped the question, all I could think is “you’re welcome!” Because of my awesome faux slumber skills they were able to lay the bricks to the foundation of their life together, aka get it on in the back of their SUV.

I have used my fake sleep technique to get myself out of a lot of potentially awkward situations. I’ve noticed that I was a third wheel and had no escape plan because I was drunk, so I just passed out on a couch and let magic happen.

When I cruise for poon I do it alone. I love going into bars, parties, and social situations by myself. I can get anyone I want when I am by myself. I am either a lone wolf or a mama bear.

I will always boost up my friends before myself. I will always hand over the hottie and bounce. But when I’m flying solo watch out!

I play wing for a few times to help you build confidence. After that my biggest advice is to roll solo, that is when you are truly free. You can get sweaty and nasty in a skank pit, stay as late as you want, go where your heart leads, there is nothing or nobody holding you back.

Yes, sometimes it is nice to walk into a bar with someone, but then you just talk to that person and never get to meet new people, if you are alone you are forced out of your comfort zone. You are instantly more appealing and approachable. That is why the best wingman always leaves. You start out as a team and get promoted to lone wolf when you are ready.

I am single, but I am not depressed. I’m currently cleaning my room so I can have future sex in it someday. Others are taking home Cuban male strippers and getting head from strangers in the street and I am making art and writing poems about boys and girls who love me not.

I don’t feel pressured to jump when anyone tells me too, I answer to no one. I’m cool with being a wingman and not a point man. Life is good. My whole life I have been “The Fat Friend” and that is what has turned me into the incredible wingwoman I am today. I love my body.

I understand that many people judge others based solely on their appearance. I know I am sexy, I know I am desirable, I do not need anyone to affirm that for me.

I finally realized that the path to self discovery is in my own head. Of course I want to get fucked more often and find some good ol’ fashioned companionship, but it’s not easy.

My style is to find someone, then silently fall in love and obsess over just that one person until it is too unbearable. Then of course, I run away because I’m a creep. I wish I could be the type of girl who just meets someone at a bar and goes for it right without hesitation.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve taken plenty of humans home, but not lately. When it comes to love and sex I yearn for something greater, someone who really gets my weird.

Maybe I’m getting older or maybe I just need to find my own unselfish, ride or die wing woman to up my game.

* Featured art by Amy Lynn Duengfelder