What bleeds for a week and doesn’t die?

I find myself sitting alone in my bed watching, videos of kittens cuddling with various other cute creatures, orphans getting adopted for Christmas, the reactions of dogs seeing their soldier owners after years of deployment, and more sappiness into the wee hours of morning just weeping. Crying my eyes out for no reason and every reason imaginable. Its ridiculous – I feel weak and powerless over my emotions. Its like that Sarah McLaughlin fucking Angel song is playing on repeat in my brain for the entirety of my red wave.

Recently, I have been really feeling like a WOMAN. I have had my period for about a week now. This month my darling Aunt Flo is a relentless bitch. I love my femininity most of the time, but during my red days I would much rather have a penis, even a small penis would be better than a throbbing, bloody pussy. Penis envy is not my thing, but I would trade her in for a few days each cycle. I know that I am probably no fun during these days. All of the energy is drained out of my body and I catch myself being hormonally cranky and full of pure rage for no apparent reason. I apologize for anyone whom I hurt during this time.

When I am not crying or ready to kill someone, I am ferociously horny. Its insatiable. Time to earn your red wings lover. I do often find that I am pretty much irresistible while bleeding, the bears can smell the menstruation. I smell different and am full of all the hormones – the “whore moans.” I have had some of the best sex of my life while on the rag. Shower sex is so much fun or even just putting a towel down works. I’m a squirter, so I do these things anyways. I even had a bearded gentleman suitor eat me out, while my beef curtains were extra rare. It was fucking intense! He couldn’t help himself, like a wild animal he devoured me. I have had sex with several women while they were on their periods, I did not let the bloodbath scare me. I mean, I definitely concentrated on the clit with my mouth, and let the fingers do all of the dirty work, but it was beautiful and spontaneous. Tasted a little like pennies.

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The day I lost my virginity: I was a young teenager and my boyfriend lived like a half hour away, he had to take the bus to come see me. The night before we messaged each other on AIM, and planned the whole thing. My parents were going to work and he was going to make the trek over to pop my cherry. This is it, I thought, the day I am going to become a woman! So I wake up with a smile on my face, and then look at my panties: SONOFABITCH! I got my period. There was no way to call him off since this was before cell phones were prevalent. So I cleaned it up and pretended like nothing was out of the ordinary. We had sex for the first time and I bled. He was also a virgin and just assumed that all the blood was from my precious little hymen breaking. I started my sexual career based on a lie.

I never read the book but apparently there is a part in 50 Shades of Grey, where he removes her bloody tampon and they get it on. Good for them! I’m happy that this is being discussed. The intimacy of a relationship is built on love and attraction. I am a woman and I bleed, fucking deal with it! If you want to get it on go ahead. Period blood is natural and lubricating. Its not that I want a guy to pull out the tampon and ring it out with his teeth like a delicacy or chew on the blood clots like candy. I just want some consideration down there. It’s easy to wipe your junk off or to take a shower. Could be from red to dark brown clumps, still fine. What’s a little blood and uterus goo between lovers?

I have to admit that I have had my reservations in the past when it came to period sex. Now, I see that it was just the insecurities of my partners at the time that made me think that way. I had been told by too many men that it was gross. You want me to swallow your cum and that’s sexy, but if you get a little blood on your dick that’s gross? Fluids are fluids as far as I’m concerned. I even had a man freak out once when I woke up with my period and stained his sheets. It was mortifying and I felt second-class the way I was treated. Total disrespect.

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Some people are even into blood play. They go as far as cutting each other and having sex in the blood. In a world where HIV is real, I think that is a little dangerous. What I’m talking about is sex with a condom during a light day of my period, not so gross. It is a myth that you cannot get pregnant during your period, so still be safe, please.

People are obsessed with blood to the point that they make art with it. Menstrual blood paintings are a real thing. I once was dressed like a zombie and left a bloody hand print on someone’s wall, that was pretty funny. In college it seemed like every feminist art student made at least once piece with tampons. I made a corset out of tampons and other feminine products. Imagine filling squirt guns with fake blood and having a war with the tampon corsets on, they would puff up. Total period piece.

During the time of the month where our life-giving uterus sheds its lining, women can become ferocious sex crazed beasts. Take advantage of that. Get over the bloody stigma and dive right into the red sea – it is spread open and ready for the taking.

Many people view women as the taker in most sexual situations, the one who gets fucked, never the fucker. Well, they are mistaken. Although our anatomy is designed to receive we can add a little artificial stimulation to the game in the form of a strap on phallus. Pegging is the slang term for a woman being the giver in an anal sex situation with a man.

I personally love being the penetrator, I have used a strap on or dildo with only three people, two men and one woman. It was so sexy to be in charge of the moans. I definitely see myself as a “power bottom” when it comes to sex and love getting on top and riding as well, but sticking it in and literally getting your dick wet is a power like no other. I can see why men enjoy having penises. Having this thing hanging off of you, ready to push your seed into another being and take control over the intimacy.

Pegging is a lot of work! Its hot, but its hard! Total body work out. You really become thankful for all the glorious pounding that has been done to you over the years. I definitely was dripping in sweat. At one point I flexed like in American Psycho, because, well, I had to. I felt very masculine and it was absolutely exhilarating. Its beautiful to be solely in charge of someone else’s pleasure.

Most straight men are shy or embarrassed about wanting anal penetration from their partner. That’s just plain dumb. If it feels good and it’s what you want, get it bro!

In my experience, the subject doesn’t come up right away, a level of trust needs to be built first. It is not emasculating to have your prostate poked by your lover, it is satisfying and beautiful. I have experienced that most men do enjoy at least a finger in the ass during oral sex, and somehow that’s not embarrassing and not (gasp) gay.

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Women aren’t the only ones with vibrators. Besides pocket pussies and Fleshlights, many “straight” men already have dildos and butt plugs that we don’t know about. It doesn’t make them enjoy having sex with a woman any less or even mean that they are necessarily attracted to men. It just means that they know what they want and reach orgasm from butt play. Simple as that.

It is again fucked up that we live in a society where people are still so scared to be classified as homosexual. Gender and sexuality are so fluid that it doesn’t at all matter where you end up on the Kinsey scale or what you identify as.

For me it is all ever changing and I honestly don’t know what I really want. Only through experimentation and actually getting out there and fucking people in a variety of ways will I find out what really turns me on and gets me off.

I remember being a young teenager and meeting a couple that defied social norms and it changed my life. She was a cousin of a friend, late 20s, and she identified as a lesbian. Her boyfriend was a cis gendered man who identified as gay. She fucked him and they worked. Labels don’t mean shit.

In all the cases it was my partner who brought up the idea of pegging. I am a big woman and have often found lovers that want me to dominate them in some way. This sex act definitely gives you a dominating power, leaving the other person more vulnerable and literally more open than ever before. I’m not going to say they enjoyed the sex more than I did, but they all writhed in pleasure. You have to be very gentle, ease it in, fuck how you would want to be fucked.

It seems like in many cases pegging is just living out a fantasy and being adventurous for one night only. Men may also go outside of the relationship to fulfill this fantasy with someone who is in the BDSM or kink scene just because they are embarrassed or don’t think their partner will understand. Just like anything, communication is the key to success.

Start easy, use small toys and butt plugs to get him ready, don’t just jam a giant punishing cock in there right away. I used a different strap on for each partner, it is special, something you should shop for together. Not like with real cocks where you can’t detach and change it up.

You can really personalize the size, shape, texture, material, and even color of your faux dick. Lube is also very important since the anus does not produce the same natural lubricants as a vagina. You want it to slide in and out with ease, any friction would make the whole thing painful.

It’s important to break down the culturally prescribed gender roles as much as we can. Nobody can tell anybody how to be a woman or be a man. There is no specific set of rules.

If you do what you want it means that you experience things that others will never even try. It’s a shared control, it’s a trust. It doesn’t mean you are less of a woman or he is less of a man. You just have made your own rules and chosen your own sexual adventure.

My name is Cat and I am a squirter.

It was once something that I was terribly embarrassed of. I remember the first time it ever happened. I thought that I had peed. I was receiving oral sex and gave him a total shower. I was mortified, so was he.

Most bodily fluids gross people out, especially when they think it’s urine (unless people are into golden showers, different story). It was obvious that he thought I pissed all over his face. I swore I didn’t.

gusherEven so, because of the modern porn industry men expect girls to swallow their cum. So if I have to swallow your little spermies you shouldn’t be mad if I squirt all over you. Its the same thing, its proof that you are doing a good job pleasuring me. It didn’t mean that I forgot to do my Kegels.

I admit that I am a leaky bitch. I often pee a little when I sneeze or cough from a killer bong rip, but nothing like this gushing phenomenon. Female ejaculation is a beautiful wonder of nature, it is mysterious and a hot topic of controversy. Its liberation from social normatives.

Squirting scenes are now banned from porn in England. Fisting, face sitting, and abuse are among the other sex acts banned from British porn. These censorship laws only apply to films being made in Britain. They can still watch stuff made in other parts of the world as long they are not blocked by the government.

There is nothing that censors bukkake films (where a bunch of guys jerk off onto a girls face), which is a ridiculous double standard that will make more girls feel like freaks for ejaculating. This should not be taboo.

Men don’t own ejaculation. Just like everything in life, if you tell me I can’t do something because I’m a girl I am going to do it, and do it better and more extreme than most men would ever dream.

It is possible for every woman to ejaculate, however not everyone can soak the wall like I can. I remember my next long term boyfriend loving the fact that I was a squirter. I remember squirting so powerfully that there were drips on his TV and wall all the way across the room.

female ejaculation memeIt was so empowering to find someone who loved the gush. We joked that there needed to be a product called The Fuck Tarp. It would be a portable, waterproof on the bottom side, and made of a highly absorbent space aged material that saved your mattress or whatever you had sex on from the river of lady juice.

I have since harnessed the power of squirting and my partners fucking love it. It’s hot to know that you made someone cum.

It is generally a slightly opaque fluid but sometimes can be see through and odorless, usually it creates a waterfall of activity. I squirt especially hard when I am on top or taken from behind via doggystyle.

It is very easy for most women to fake orgasms, our genitalia are on the inside and we don’t all cum like men do. Unfortunately it is a little more difficult for squirters to fake orgasms.

I know for me there is definitely a point where it feels like my vagina is squeezing the phallus and then it builds up and spasms, then eventually the moment comes where the explosive orgasm leaves my partner dripping in hot, sweet girl gush. I like to call it the nectar of the gods. It’s like nothing else.

gspotThe G-spot does exist, it is also known as the female prostate, and is located on the roof of the vagina. Stimulating it causes extreme orgasms and in my case ejaculation.

Every woman can do it, you just need to experiment with your partner, your hand, or some sex toys. You have to locate your prostate and become aware of how sensitive it is. Once you find the magic button you must have the confidence to release the flow of she jizz from the urethra.

It’s scary for a lot of girls, but should be an honor and not something to be ashamed or intimidated by, its natural. Many women feel the sensation coming on during sex but repress it and clench their pelvis because they think they are going to pee. They think something is wrong but really it is just their body trying to let the sweet juices flow free.

Most women don’t find female ejaculation attractive because it is not common or they see it as not clean or that they are incontinent. It’s so sad that girls aren’t educated in this, they are missing out on an incredibly powerful feeling.

I remember trying to research female ejaculation in the library and on the internet and did not give me any answers. It’s a total mystery. If doctors don’t know where it comes from, how can I figure this out?

Bodies are very strange indeed. Many are skeptical of its origins but I can attest that it is a real phenomenon and not something made up by modern pornography.

Recent studies have shown that female ejaculation comes from the Skene’s glands, on the wall of the vagina near the urethra. French researchers have even observed female ejaculation using ultrasound technology. They found that the liquid came from the Skene’s glands and the bladder. There is a high level of prostatic acid phosphatase that is found in semen.

Lady juice is not that much different that what men secrete when they cum. Obviously one major difference is semen, but female ejaculate is made up of prostatic fluid, glucose, and some urine. It does not taste or smell anything like pee. Ejaculate will leave a white spot on your black futon so be careful where you point that waterfall.

All women have g-spots and just need a little exploration to make squirting a reality. I don’t think anyone will be mad to try and figure out how to make their girl squirt. Sexplortion is one of the most important parts of a healthy relationship.

Female ejaculation is proof that a woman can drench her partner in body fluid when she hits climax just like a man. It is so liberating!

You can finally feel how good it is to come on his face for once. This is a real symbol of female sexual power. It is sexual equality, no longer do we have to be the ones degraded and covered in cum, it goes both ways.

Good sex is messy, so what if you have to get some plastic sheets. Just remember that true love is when they sleep in the wet spot.

What does sex really smell like?

My roommate was accosted at a mini mart just trying to live her life and get some breakfast sandwiches. “I bet you have a man at home. He probably smells like sex too.” Or a soccer mom not whispering but whispering to herself “she smells like sex .”

What the fuck?! I definitely know that we smell different due to hormones and what time of the month it is. A post sex pussy is more pungent than an undersexed kitten, but still sweet, not intruding, not something that should be whispered about under baited breath.

It is sexy, it should be worn proud, it is natural, beautiful, and anyone who mentions it is only jealous that they weren’t the one who caused it. She deserves pleasure, she wears it well.

I often smell like weed and masturbation. Is that the same as sex? A fishy musk with a skunk undertone. I smell like dirty socks and last night’s fishnets. I smell like high heel shoes that have been danced in. I smell like swamp ass and good times. Do I smell like Teen Spirit? Or whatever that means.

I love a person with a rich odor. I feel like that’s the secret dirty hippie living inside of me. A person who has worked hard all day. Fixing the car, pounding on drums, or whatever makes people sweat. I love the smell of sex and candy yeah. More like sex and whiskey with a side of bacon though, that’s what I really like.

I hate too much cologne or perfume on a person. Its terrible when bro-douches bathe in AXE before leaving their scummy little bat caves. Or like cheap old man cologne, or dollar store knock offs of Calvin Klein, yuck.

Women go overboard too sometimes. I know my mom enjoys spraying her perfume in the close quarters of the car. It’s not delicious to get that shit in your eyes and orifices. Why would you want to hide your natural smell?

I do like essential oils, though. In small doses they go great with body chemistry and enhance your own smells. Warning: It is possible to overdose on patchouli and it should not take the place of bathing. But there is something to be said for au naturel.

Back in the days of Marie Antoinette, bitches never took showers or baths, even royalty. They just put on powders and perfumes and giant wigs and lush garments to cover up their body odor. I often feel like that’s what I do when I’m on stage. I forget to wash that thong that matches my pasties or the last pair of thigh highs I have that doesn’t have a run.

12187863_10102734061231328_7002025251388096328_nIts awful, and another reason why the fantasy of a performer is always better than the reality. In the fantasy I am perfection, in reality I am crusty and rank. I no longer shave my armpits, legs, or lady parts but it’s so blonde naturally that it doesn’t matter. I belong barefoot and outside, covered in earth and summer sweat. I do enjoy being a sparkling diamond as well, but it definitely is hard work.

On Beggars Night, I dressed up like Courtney Love in the 90’s, the other bartender was Kurt Cobain, I even had a lil Francis Bean doll. I had a broken cigarette in my mouth all night and kept swearing and saying that baby Francis Bean did all my coke and that’s why she was with me at the bar. I was definitely method acting all night. I ate a special mushroom chocolate and really went deep. I even fell down the stairs after threatening to smash a pumpkin.

I woke up slightly more Courtney than before, makeup more smeared and life more a mess. God damn did I smell. I smelled like spilled beer and other people’s cigarettes. I worked all night and then partied on like Wayne. I wonder what perfume Courtney Love wears? I bet its Chanel No. 5 mixed with unicorn tears, whiskey vomit and cigarette ash.

The other day I had the unfortunate occurrence of being the stinkiest person in the thrift store. It was a chilly day, so I decided to pick a scarf up off of the floor. The drive to the store I kept thinking, damn, what crawled into my car and died? Then I got there and it followed me. It was only after I left that I realized one of my cats had pissed on said scarf.

I was living my crazy cat lady fantasy. Awesome. I was the stinky kid at school. I’m often the stinky kid in the room now; because I smell like I tackled a rabid skunk, but that’s different. Hehe.

Smell is so important, pheromones are the basis of attraction. Certain smells evoke chemical responses in our bodies. Wear perfumes wisely and clean your bits and pieces, never be ashamed of smelling like sex, and listen to all your senses (especially smell) when choosing a mate.

Halloween is here once again, it is hands down my favorite holiday. Actually no, fuck that, Halloween is everyday! I wear my freak flag proud 365 days a year.

For most “normal” people, Halloween is the one day of the year that it is socially acceptable to dress up like a weirdo and live their freak fantasy. Sadly commercialism and an oversexed media has turned it into a money making skank fest.

There are literally slutty versions of every costume (even in the kids section): slutty nurse, slutty referee, slutty cop, slutty witch, slutty vampire, slutty pirate, slutty prom queen, and the list goes on. These costumes seem to be invented with pedophiles in mind. Men and young boys seem to have it a little easier and can just put a mask on it , become their favorite action hero or movie killer, or slip on a dress and be a bearded lady.

Stop the trend. The only way you can break out of this is by making your own costumes for your children. Halloween costumes you buy are very expensive and poorly made anyways.

More gore and less whore. Being a bloody zombie is an easy and fun way to celebrate this holiday season. Instead of being a slutty version of something be a bloody zombie version instead!

It was funny, the other day I went to a costume party with my friend Erik and he doused himself in blood and called it a day for his costume. The cab driver asked us like ten times if it was real. A person covered in real blood is every person’s worst nightmare, so I get it when people freak out over a gory costume. Its all about shock value.

The original Theatre du Grand-Guignol in Paris
The original Theatre du Grand-Guignol in Paris

Haunted houses are insane, filled with passionate actors willing and ready to scare the shit out of anyone who walks through the doors. I am a pussy when it comes to stuff like that.

I remember being a pretty young girl and going into a Haunted Catacomb and when the actor wielding a chainsaw came after me I kicked him in the shin and ran. It was fight then flight, I felt like I was going to die. Now it’s a little different, as an adult I realize that I am probably not going to actually die. It’s all entertainment.

People have always had a certain blood lust when it comes to being entertained. Grand Guignol is a form of theatre that is graphic, amoral, and horrific in nature. The most famous theatre of this kind and a huge target for censorship was the house of horror known as Le Theatre du Grand-Guinol, The Theatre of the Grand Puppett, in Paris France open from 1897-1962.

Everyone from royalty and celebrities in formal apparel to the common man would enjoy blood soaked plays about prostitutes, criminals, insanity, and grotesque mame and murder. People came to the shows to feel something, they wanted to be entertained and disturbed by the natural looking horror shows. The same crowd attends modern day slasher films and gorelesque recitals.

Most audience members became belligerent and boisterous. Others could not hang, often the special effects were so realistic that audience members would vomit or pass out during the performances.

I am part of a Gorelesque troupe called The Zombettes, we give a whole new meaning to Blood Lust. Once after a show I picked up a guy and left bloody handprints on his wall.

Gorelesque is exactly what it sounds like: Burlesque covered in blood. Dark, occult, horror, zombie, and gore added to the classic striptease based performance art. We have done everything from act out the ear cutting Stuck in the Middle With You scene from Resevoir Dogs to the opening scene from Scream or a reenactment of Friday the 13th. 

Once we did a show dubbed “too soon?” where my friend The Creeping Beauty dressed up like Amy Winehouse (literally two days after she passed) and I dressed up like Anna Nicole Smith to welcome her to the afterlife while the song Rehab played. Maybe that was utterly tasteless, but it certainly was memorable.

zombie amy winehouse anna nicole smith

Classic horror/slasher movies are a huge inspiration to my art. Dramatic music and imagination are important in horror flicks. It’s what you don’t see that can scare you the most. Same with burlesque, it’s what you don’t see that invokes the most titilation.

Everybody has nightmares and everybody watches the news. We all know that the world we live in can be a scary and evil place. Sometimes people go crazy and slaughter the innocent , war is happening while you read this, limbs being blown off, random acts of torture and violence are rampant, people are being raped, and there are unspeakable horrors happening in every city. Horror movies are just the artistic representations of these very real atrocities.

It’s the time of year that I re-watch all of the Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street, Scream, Hellraiser and other various horror movies on repeat. The scariest of these flicks are the ones that are plausible. A real person can lose their mind and torture me.

It seems that there is a formula for these flicks that involves large breasted women or beautiful young virgin babysitters running around in white t-shirts covered in blood and being victimized by a male psychopathic sadistic monster.

Why are there rarely any sexy men in leading roles of horror movies? When a man dies in a horror flick it is quick. Scream Queens sell tickets. Misogyny rules in this genre. These women must fight to survive.

It reminds me a lot of porn to be honest with you. Young women cowering and screaming just as they do from being pounded by the twenty throbbing mega cocks being rammed down their throats in hardcore porn movies. Yes, I am a feminist who watches both horror movies and gang bang porn. Im more terrified by watching the Republican debate.

If you wanna be my lover you gotta “get” with my friends. If you don’t want to be my lover I am going to “get” with your friends and probably every girl you are interested in too just because well, I can.

To most people it would seem that I get what I want. And I do, but it’s not always what I really, really want. I am confident and successful in most areas of my life and I often have multiple suitors barking up my tree. It’s all a facade.

To be honest with you I suck at love. I’ve been heartbroken before and try to keep my heart safe at all costs. This makes me a pussy, incapable of making the first move. I can never seem to seal the deal when I fall for someone. It sucks. I’m lonely and desperately want to be touched and kissed, but not just by anyone. I need something more true and worthwhile.

So I don’t jump in head first. I become friends with them and then can never break out of that zone. The person I want does fall in love with me, but for some reason only at a platonic level. Years go by. I’m still here, alone with all of my talent, pure wonderfulness, and cats.

It’s torture to long for something and be paralyzed by fear when trying to get it. It is however creepily easy for me to pick up all of their friends and potential love interests. I know this sounds absolutely shitty.

I can hit on and have a successful one night stand with any girl or guy that they are into. It’s easy to get with someone that you have no intention of loving later. Am I just spite fucking these poor unfortunate souls? Yes, yes I probably am.

I’ve hooked up with some best friends, bandmates, brothers, and random girls that I knew my love interest of moment was into. You would be surprised at how many people really do not respect the bros before hoes law.

bros before hoes

The “you” I speak of in the next paragraph is the hypothetical love of my life.

The other day I fucked someone who inspires you, someone who thinks you are incredible, he looks up to you even though he’s older than you. He talked about you while we were together, it made me want you even more. His first question was you aren’t dating that guy right? You would be surprised how many people ask me that. It kills me to say no.

Is it fucked up that you pop into my mind when I close my eyes to kiss anyone else? I want to open my eyes and see you looking back at me, I’m always disappointed when it’s not. It’s not their fault either, they are all amazing and worthwhile humans that I am attracted to, but none of them compare. You make my body tingle without even touching it, without even being here, just thinking about you erupts me.

Gross right? I deserve someone who feels the same way about me and nothing less, but love and lust is so infinitely complex and difficult. There are no rules. You can’t tell your damn heart or libido how to feel.

I don’t know if I did it to feel strangely closer to you or because I am legitimately attracted to this guy. I can see why you are friends with him. Without me even saying your name he told me how you guys met and all the details of your friendship.

He played my harmonica in the key of “V” like a master. But I couldn’t cum. I couldn’t cum because it wasn’t you. It was your friend instead. It was who I could get. It was a version of you that wanted me back. Seemed like a good idea when I was drunk.

He held me after and said all the shit I wanted to hear from your lips. He kissed me goodbye in the morning and told me to say hi to you the next time I saw you. Yea that’s not going to happen.

I fixate on things and people. I need to be absolutely swept off my feet by someone else to get over you, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to throw in the towel and admit defeat. I want you to wake up and realize how incredible we could be together. My fantasy is so tangible that I can’t stop feeling how I do.

I’m definitely a stupid girl sometimes. I don’t use my brain, only my flimsy heart and unbridled sex appeal.

It’s a terrible idea to seek out the best friends and loved ones of your crush and fuck them. Shit happens and it leaves you feeling empty and mean for playing with this other innocent person’s emotions.

I don’t do it to hurt the one I love, I don’t ever want them to know. I just long for a connection.

Here’s the double standard. I would be devastated if it were the other way. If I found out that my crush was banging one of my friends I’d be done. I should think about that next time this situation presents itself. You get what you give.

Spite fucking is ultimately not a good idea. When you truly love someone the ultimate goal is to make them happy or wish them happiness elsewhere and move the fuck on if they don’t want you. Maybe you will remain friends, but probably not. If you are a total psycho like me you will operate a little differently. It’s vitally important to learn from your mistakes and take charge of your own destiny. You will find yours someday, and so will I.

This is how I will start my first erotic paperback novel:

Sucking a British guy’s cock with my finger exactly where he requested it, leaning him up against the old lesbian bar that I once performed in. Oh the irony.

Maybe it was when I was literally pissing on the steps of a church and wiping hot man magma off of my cheek that I realized this whole thing was happening.

He asked me what my sexuality was, I said bisexual and he called me greedy. What percent? I replied 60/40, but maybe that’s not accurate. I think I’m really right smack dab in the middle on the Kinsey scale.

We proceed to my favorite gay bar, one of a small few left in my city. Everyone knows my name and I get celebrity treatment on arrival. Bought him a round to be hospitable. Ran into a girl that once told me she would like to know what I sounded like when I came.

Don’t you wish you had a dick so you can have a tit wank? He says to her. Asshole.

Shots and double drinks galore.

I’m a bartender, I wear a Betsy Johnson bottle opener necklace that’s shaped like a key. When they ask me if it’s the key to my heart I say yes and open the bottle right between my boobs. The more you drink the better I look.

Weird to be that slutty American girl. I flirted instantly but thought nothing of his charm. He grabbed my phone and added himself to my social media. Which is ideal because I had already forgotten his name.

I noted the other people who were following him. All probably girls he has fucked. That’s his way to notch the bed post. Never in my life would I think a dude like this would be throwing himself at me. He was extremely forward, which was refreshing.

He showed me a photo of his beautiful girlfriend. I said she was a lot of forehead. What a dick.

I stopped at the blowjob. Maybe I should have ravaged him but my heart just wasn’t into it. My problem with these certain one night stands is the lack of passion. I require tingles in my guts. I’m worth all of it and will never settle or make a mistake when the timing isn’t right.

cat karaoke

I mean this man was a beautiful and charming asshole. Brazenly confident but still too much a pussy to sing karaoke.

He sort of mocked this one guy’s version of Bon Jovi, I didn’t respect that. It was very Simon Cowell. Someone is out there singing and bearing their soul. You don’t have the right to judge if you are too afraid to do it yourself. Yea the man sounded terrible but fuck it he was happy! We all were happy.

You can really tell if someone is worth your time if they are willing to put something out there and embrace embarrassing moments.

I love karaoke. I remember the first time I ever sang was Big Girls Don’t Cry at my dad’s work picnic. I used to go to Roxy’s karaoke and make out with my friend the whole time, we would always sing Sweet Dreams.

The only thing worse than Creed is someone singing Creed karaoke and trying to sound like the guy from Creed. The only thing worse than that is when they sing Nickleback and sound like the guy from Creed. I don’t know if I can stomach another Wagon Wheel cover either.

Fun fact KJ is what they call a karaoke DJ, that’s funny to me. Serious Karaoke people are a different breed man.

After karaoke I took him to the diviest dive bar in Buffalo.

Everything I wanted right? I’ve said no to so many one night stands and yes to a select few. He told me he was clean and told me about his world travels in his thick accent. I want to go to Greece and party. Video of his time as a fire breathing pool boy at a luxury hotel in Greece. Sounds magical. Meh.

My recent Sexcapades are few and far between. I made out with a traveling musician. He drank too much whiskey and I had to downright no means no him. It got weird. Another guy was laying it on thick, beautiful black man with well manicured natural dreadlocks. Still meh.

It’s hard for me to commit to even one night when my heart is not there. I am too passionate for my own good and know my worth. I feel like I need to branch out and do a lot more wandering.

Talking to this guy made me want to travel even more. The wander lust. The lust lust. Wanting to find dirty wonderfulness in someone else’s city. Go to some other city’s best worst dive bar. I want to sing karaoke in a new place. Wouldn’t that just be swell?

You gotta little something in your teeth, looks like a curly lil hair, huh, curious how that got there…

“I give the best head and he won’t even lick my pussy,” say most women. Everyone should be getting licked from their head down to their toes, or their necks, backs, pussies and cracks if that’s what they so desire.

Unfortunately the trend seems to be general unhappiness with the oral sex from at least one person in the relationship. This seems to be a common occurrence in unhealthy modern relationships.

Men are so used to seeing cock hungry pornstars deep throating every piece of meat thrown in front of them that they think its a woman’s obligation to service their member on command.

hot dogsI had a boyfriend once who disliked my dick sucking skills so much that he started to send me videos to study in order to brush up on my talent. I was young, maybe not so skilled, but hey, I’m willing to go down there, don’t you dare offend me by sending me the best of blowjob pornos for tips. Believe me, I am happy to do the damn thing when a partner respectfully requests it or just plain deserved a treat.

Don’t get me wrong, I like warm meat in my mouth. Sometimes in the form of wieners and hot dogs other times I like roast beef and the almighty taco! I am bisexual, so I know how to navigate genitalia of all kinds and am not afraid to go there for the right person.

Some uninformed people seem to think that you are practicing safe sex by just engaging in oral sex. This is not true, you still should use condoms and dental dams to protect yourself from sexually transmitted diseases. Yes, you can get type 1 Herpes (mouth) from someone who has type 2 (genital).

As a woman it is okay to want to be satisfied without having to owe them fellatio in return. Usually this is not a problem in lesbian relationships, women are more than happy to return the favor.

Unless there is stone butch or trans-man who is not comfortable receiving oral sex, that is a whole different hurdle that the couple has to cross. A friend of mine gave me some insight on gay male relationships and that there sometimes seems to be a divide between tops and bottoms (or even switch) where a man will take it until their partner cums but will not have the opportunity to get off themselves.

That sounds like pure disrespect and laziness to me. Since a bottom cannot get off by penetrating his partner he should at least get a blowjob after or his ass eaten out. I mean come on now! DO NOT roll over and die after you get off, finish off your partner. Everyone deserves to get theirs, that’s why we are doing this isn’t it? Not to be selfish.

I’ve talked to friends of mine that have been in relationships where the guy only wanted oral sex all day every day. She had jaw and throat problems from this, and do you think he reciprocated? No.

What is so gross about the vagina?

I had a bearded one night stand willing to eat me out while on my period and a long term relationships where I got head only twice in four plus years. He earned his red wings that night I guess.

Hell, I’m not ashamed that I have gone down on several girls while their aunt Flo was visiting. Sometimes in the heat of the passion you just gotta do it no matter what. I will never let a thing like that get in between me and a passionate encounter.

Wouldn’t be offended in the least if he/she suggested that I took a quick shower. Or if we did it together. I mean I don’t necessarily want gym stinky balls or a rare roast beef in my face either. Cleanliness is next to godliness right?

I do really love the human smells. There is nothing sexier than the musk of the one you love. Sweet summer stanky sweet sweat. Get over here! Maybe he was working on a car or playing music all day. You know the smell was earned because he did something incredible to earn it. You suddenly want to make him sweat some more… (Insert masturbation here).

Umm ok. Ahem. Hair, let’s talk about hair. Especially hair down there.

As far as body hair goes it is a personal choice! Don’t ever judge someone for having or not having body hair. Its not your body.

In the last year I have stopped shaving my legs and armpits. Even people like Miley Cyrus have gotten into the trend of changing what a woman is supposed to look like. She boldly dyed her armpit hair bright pink.

I recently also dyed my pubes pink with a friend and attempted the pits with less success. I remember standing there with Max Darling in our bathroom with bleach on our crotches and pits and just bursting out laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

pink flamingos

It just reminded me of John Waters’ 1972 film Pink Flamingos. Two characters in the film had curtains that definitely matched the carpet. Raymond and Connie Marble, the second Filthiest People Alive, had crazy kinky sex on screen, sported pubic hair dyed to match their technicolor electric blue and orange manes. It was infamously glorious.

Pubic hair trends have varied from full wild untamed bush to tasteful bush to sculpted landing strips to straight shaved pre-pubescent little girl bald. Many women are saying fuck shaving, electrolysis, and waxing. They are now embracing their armpit hair, leg hair, and real beards – face beards and bearded clams alike! By doing this beauty standards and societal expectations of what a proper woman should look like are challenged.

I adore porn from the 70s and 80s. The animalistic nature of these hairy beast men having sweaty nasty hard beast sex with wild and untamed vaginas and horrifying tan lines.

austin powers manscapingI once loved a man with back hair. He was hairy like animal Austin Powers sweater hairy. It was like sleeping next to a bear. I wasn’t mad.

My first boyfriend told me he wanted me to have a shaved pussy. Ok I said, let’s try this. I shave my legs, totes the same right?!

Awe hell no.

The razor burn and bumps was the most painful and disgusting crotch thing that had ever happened to me at that point in my life. Only second to the yeast infection I got years later that mortified me to this day and made me really love cranberry juice. I get it now.

It burned and itched and looked like a disease. I was never so scared in my life. I knew I was doing it wrong. Going against the grain with a multiblade little pink razor was a bad choice.

That’s the last I have ever let someone tell me how to be sexy and do something that I was not comfortable or felt necessary doing.

My pubic hair is grown out now and my ladybits nice and warm. I’m not talking about a merkin here either (Victorian pubic wigs used by prostitutes and now by modern Burlesque performers and actors doing nude scenes).

My vagina has just straight up gone rogue and I couldn’t be happier.Even on a good day I do not have the smooth vagina of a twelve year old girl but this has gone far beyond tasteful 90s bush and on to a full out thigh beard and I am not mad.

Female pubic hair is totally trending but even 2015, flashing a little bush in your Instagram photos will get you kicked off the social media app. Female pubic hair is something that is better not seen in the scene. Strip clubs worldwide still have sanctions against the almighty bush.

I think we should go back to the time when bush ran wild and free (and NOT talking either of the Georges or Jeb), and the public viewed pubes as natural beauty. People remove the pubes for many different reasons, including wanting to feel cleaner, sexier, and more comfortable.

Many people get rid of their pubic hair because they think they will get more oral action that way. I think that is crazy. It is healthier and more attractive to have a little fur on your burger.

Don’t let anyone pressure you to change who you are, but don’t let me stop you from making that waxing appointment either, it is your body!

Sound is so important, especially the sound of sex. Have you ever listened to just the audio of porn? Try it, it’s so hot. Sound in the bedroom is always a good thing, and it can enrich your sex life exponentially.

I’m sure we have all lived with roommates who have had extremely loud sex from time to time. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that. (I’m a screamer if you don’t put a ball gag in my mouth). And, depending on who you’ve heard moaning and groaning through the walls, you know there’s all kinds of loud sex out there. 

There’s the awful creaky squeaky bed slamming up against the wall. This is my least favourite. I once had a beautiful vintage bed frame that wasn’t made to endure hard labor. Thankfully my ex and I fucked it into the ground and put it out of its misery. I didn’t use a bed frame for years after that.

Loud sex is healthy

Some people make tiny “meeps” and others have a mighty roar when they climax. I’ve had a roommate that sounded exactly like Forrest Gump’s mom screwing the principal. Another had that “Awwwe Yeaaa” deep bass sexiness.

Several courters have told me they would like to hear what I sound like, I don’t blame them. I naturally have a phone sex operatoresque voice as is, imagine when it’s provoked? Yummy.

We aren’t teenagers trying go hide our sexual activity from our parents anymore. Loud sex is healthy. Be the porn star you want to be. While all porn moans may not be real, just like porn boobs, it does seem quite fun to turn up the volume and express yourself in bed.

loud sex is fun

Being vocal and moaning during love making let’s your partner(s) know how they are doing. Do not inhibit yourself during the act. Be loud, talk dirty, this is not the place to censor yourself. If your roommates don’t like it get new roommates. Never apologize for loud coitus, it’s like apologizing for breathing. There are pros and cons to living with people. Listening to others have sex just comes with the territory. 

You don’t really know someone until you live with them. You may think that they are a sexy, open, rockstar and then after living with them find out that they are actually a closed off curmudgeon, passive aggressive, crack smoking, never-does-the-dishes whore. A variety of things happens when people move in together and one of them is getting to intimately know their sex life and the sounds they emit while cumming.

Always respect others and give them the courtesy you want to receive. I learned etiquette quick. My first roommate used to have sex with the door open. I would come home and politely walk past his bedroom. I told her that one day she would look up to see me standing there like a creep, eating a sandwich, and watching them get it on with a blank look in my eyes. That’s probably what made her decide to move out.

It’s like screaming on a roller coaster

My current roommate/muse, Max Darling, is an exhibitionist. He also prefers to have an open door policy about his sex life. He once had sex in a friends dorm room to fight back against their roommates excessive sex. It didn’t deter anyone. They ended up cheering him on, and he loved it. I’ve come home to him cooking Ramen noodles naked. It’s beautiful.

The ol’ “Do Not Disturb” sign is not needed when the whole house can hear you. If you just let it out you will breathe easier and get more aroused. It’s like screaming on a roller coaster. The thrill of others hearing you, vocal exhibitionist, maybe you will even get caught (naughty naughty).

A woman in Birmingham England , Gemma Wale, was arrested and jailed for two weeks due to loud sex noises that annoyed her neighbors.

sex memeEnthusiastic screams are sexier then any lingerie or sex toys. Show them you are into it, but don’t fake it. It’s cool to exaggerate a little in the name of fantasy but not right or healthy to constantly fake your orgasmic bliss. If your partner is doing it wrong communicate and things will get better (or find someone more compatible). You don’t want them to continue doing the wrong thing and thinking they are satisfying you, that’s not fair to either of you.

Even single girls like me can have loud solo sex

I once went on a camping trip with some lesbians, two of them were a couple at the time and the other two just friends, well that didn’t last long. I remember vividly hearing them having the loudest sex ever in the rooms of the cabin on either side of me. I regret not trying to turn it into an orgy. I also felt lonely and desperately single that fateful night.

Even single girls like me can have loud solo sex. Hitachi wands and vibrators that take D batteries can create quite a buzz in your household (literally).

Be loud and proud that you are getting laid or getting that “D” or “V” (dildo or vibrator) respectively. It will make you and your partner feel like kings. Loud sex is animalistic and primal. Muffled groans of passion in a pillowcase or ball gag are almost as hot as the decadent decibels, so don’t hold back.

I always read the Craigslist missed connections hoping that there is someone out there who wants lil Ol’me. Actually, who am I kidding, I’m on there for the same reason I like John Waters’ movies, it’s all about the filth and unsavory splendor.

Gotta keep check on the creepers of the world, the heavy breathers wearing trench coats in the corner masterfully master-bating sting quietly while you live your life in blissful ignorance.

M for F 30 Spot Coffee Delaware
Amazon woman with blonde and pink hair sitting alone at Spot Coffee reading The Ethical Slut wearing a black dress covered in cat hair. I saw you and the world stopped. I wish I would have said something. Reply with the sports team that was on the shirt I was wearing, hint it matches your ankle tattoo. I swear by your smile we must be soulmates. I want you to tie me up and put out cigarettes on my chest. Let’s go on a long walk into the sunset together. Then you can pee on me because I love you. You complete me.

Woof. That escalated quickly. Some connections are made to be missed. I’m happy to be single. I walk tall and proud, confident and free of the relationship bondage that ruins most humans and the sad yearning that ruins the rest.

cat sunglasses

I do not need you to complete me. There is nothing you can give me that I can’t earn myself. I prefer to roll solo without any unnecessary baggage. Single, young (well young enough), and bisexual. The world my oyster, and oysters are supposed to be the sexiest food because they subliminally remind people of slurping a vagina.

Currently I’m swimming in hot blondes. I don’t know what to do with a girl this hot. All American cheerleader sex kitten angel fell asleep on my boobs the other night, she told me it was like waking up and the dream was still going. I was so sweaty though and the worst horror movie with a guy in a bunny suit was playing and I couldn’t reach the remote. I would have watched it all night instead of making her move. I can’t even…

Drowning in sweet poon and all I want is you baby. There is a boy that I have feelings for and he knows. I respect that he doesn’t want to sleep with me but it doesn’t make things any easier. If he only knew we wanted the same things. Imagine the amount of girls we could pick up together? I can’t even…

cat montreal villageSo instead of choosing one I choose fun.

I remember my early twenties really well, I had just gotten out of a long term relationship with a guy who ended up being uber controlling. It was the beginning of my burlesque career and he told me it was him or burlesque. Well I’ve been doing burlesque for almost eight years now so I guess you can tell what my choice was. See ya later asshole. Remember it’s not love if someone tries to censor or control you! The things you do and love are infinite and important.

After we ended it, the weirdo dude even stowed away in my van and begged me to take him back. I eluded him and never looked back. He married the next girl he dated. Without burlesque that would have been me.

I’m not made to be a housewife and mother. I’m too selfish and messy. I’m an only child who never wants to grow up. Sure, I’ll make you a breakfast sandwich in the morning but then you must be on your way because I have shit to do that just doesn’t involve you.

Rid yourself of the notion that you need to find your soulmate to make yourself whole. You are already perfect, the only thing that will truly satisfy the yearning in your heart is exploring the unknown. There is so much wonder and beauty out there.

My life invokes adventure and passion. My journey involves being free. Life is a stage. My arms are outstretched and the wind caresses my exposed nakedness. I’m not a spinster old maid, I’m a modern woman who will not accept the status quo. I’m the king of the world. I am a lone wolf, hear me howl at the moon. Try it for yourself.

It’s easy to subscribe to having no regrets and living each day like you have terminal Cancer. You truly could get hit by a bus at any time. The YOLO generation wants to have their cake and eat yours too. Everything always, instant and constant satisfaction guaranteed. Kids raised by the Internet. Sometimes jumping in without considering the debt and consequences. Are they wrong?

The things you are reluctant to do the most are the ones that you need and love the most in the end. I know that I would feel better if I exercised more and cleaned my room. To be free of clutter and full of energy would be absolutely incredible. I need those things. Just like the tap shoes I have never learned to use, the hula hoop hanging on the wall, and the lil pink ukulele that I still can’t play.

These things that I want so badly but have not put in the necessary effort to achieve. My laziness absolutely disgusts me. It’s so privileged American, it’s so my generation, if its not easy it isn’t happening. Fucking stupid way to live. I’m sick of it.

yolo

I’ve always had one foot on the ground, protecting my heart at all costs. I know that I have loved, but none of them knew it. I never have said “I love you” to someone who I was with. Don’t really know if I’ve ever had an orgasm either, never really let go.

I am a pleasure delayer. Sometimes I just hold back because I know I can. Having control over my own success Keeping the things I love the closest only to push them away right before touchdown. Is the longing and lusting better than the touching and caressing ,the finishing?

Do the best things simply need more time to marinate? You must plant the seeds, nurture the strongest, then once the plant is mature… well, you fuck the plant.

Waiting for just the right moment can last a lifetime. The moment just might pass. I guess that means it wasn’t your moment. You missed your chance to kiss them and now they kiss another. Jumped on the train headed west never to look back for you. Love comes on slowly but can die instantly.

I have wanderlust and no passport. I talk about going on tour but have made no action to book gigs. The queen of professional procrastination.

I get desperately jealous when I see my friends conquering the world and seeing so much beauty. I know I have an incredible life, but there is so much more than I need to explore. I need to stop talking and just go! Get the fuck out of Dodge and put my mark somewhere new and exciting.

I want to buy a van, paint a mural on it ( I’m thinking Jim Kelly riding a unicorn), make it cat friendly, and go across the country. I need to soak it all in.

unicorn football van

The people I look up to the most are the ones who selfishly take everything they dream of. They jump blindly in the dark and end up with an epic win. I have spent too many nights working when I should be doing other things. I’ve had to say no to shows because I had to work and each time I died a little inside.

My passion put on hold. I once worked instead of going on a family vacation, that is one of the biggest regrets of my life. You have to prioritize, family, love, and true passion comes before work 100% of the time. I mean, of course you have to work, but don’t let that shit consume you.

Don’t dream it be it is tattooed on my body, I must embody that more than ever. I feel like once I just go the fear will melt away. I just have to get off my ass and take what I want. The world is an empty stage just waiting for me to jump on.

What excuses hold you back from getting and doing what you want? Fear? Money? I don’t want to wake up old and alone in the same city I was born in. The world is intimidating and also beautiful.

Sometimes you will fall, buts it’s ok. Imagine if I never did burlesque? Imagine if I never stepped foot on a plane? What if I was too scared to make art? Fear is crippling but not real.

When I was a little girl I used to jump off the swings in mid flight, now I’m terrified to do that. I picture my ankles snapping at impact. What changed inside of me? Older and wiser? Hardly. I’m just more of a pussy now.

While it is important to consider the consequences it’s not a be all end all. Yes you might fail and fall, but you might succeed and soar too! You don’t know if you don’t try. If you never leave your comfort zone you aren’t really living life. Small failures can yield success. I would have never met all the incredible people in my life if I didn’t try new things and open myself up to new experiences.

That first step is always a bitch but once you go for it everything else falls into place. We never entirely know what’s going to happen, just gotta do our best and learn for every failure and success. Be the change. Make shit happen. Let’s go.

Everyone knows the best parts of Spring are those sexy little flowing dresses that all the pretty girls wear. All that skin getting light shed on it for the first time in months. Long smooth legs glistening in the golden sun. Perfect arms, bulging cleavage, and sexy exposed shoulders causing car accidents.

Unless you have skin problems, then the horror of showing some skin can be very stressful and downright traumatic. Nobody wants to be the creepy flakey guy scratching and picking at his skin on the bus.

My name is Cat and I have chronic plaque psoriasis, it is an immune system related disease that is characterized by itchy red and scaly patches and dry crusty lesions on the body. It is not contagious.

My body grows skin cells up to 10 times faster than normal and cause the inflammation and plaque spots. Mine is moderate but still covering most of my body at the moment.

It is especially bad on my elbows, knees, behind my ears, on my butt, and scalp. It also effects my joints and is especially bad in the dry winter or when I’m stressed. It’s almost impossible to wear black without being covered in a snowstorm of skin flakes. My toe nails grow in thick and flakey. Yum, that’s attractive in a pair of cute sandals.

cat art skin
Cat McCarthy’s artwork about her skin

Why me? Why can’t I have smooth skin like all the other girls? Being scaly is just awful. For psoriasis sufferers social situations can be terrifying. It’s embarrassing to go swimming or even let your legs show on a hot day. Sex is often easier in the dark, less to explain.

You become tough when dealing with this skin imperfection. It makes life a little harder, but obviously not impossible. Much like acne and other skin diseases, psoriasis is socially taboo and not fully understood by the general population.

I have suffered from this most of my life. Even when it’s not terribly inflamed it’s still always there, taunting me. My grandmother had it, I always knew it was coming for me.

I am generally very comfortable in my skin. I love my fat rolls, every squishy bit of me is beautiful. I even don’t mind my stretch marks, I’ve earned them. But the lesions are really hard to deal with, especially when they take over intimate zones.

It’s hard to explain these nasty patches attacking your inner thighs and nipples. You make sure to keep your STD test results handy. It’s also terrible when it decides to go on your eyelids and face,there is no concealing that. You feel helpless and ugly.

The drugs on the market to help either contain harsh steroids or have grueling cancer causing side effects. Alcohol and smoking make it worse, small amounts of UV light make it better. Your body can react to treatment but usually becomes immune quickly and adapts, bringing you back to square one.

Even though I am more self conscious of my skin than any other part of me, I still choose to bare it all. I am a burlesque dancer, which means baring my skin for art. The bright lights can be unforgiving but most shows happen under the red glowing bar lights that make everyone look sexy.

Besides that, I regularly pose nude for figure drawing classes. Being 100% exposed in front of a group of students is so liberating. I have noticed that not one student has ever drawn my skin imperfections into their art. After close inspection they have added in my tattoos and got my hairstyle perfect but have not dealt with the skin issue.

I always wondered if they were just being nice. I think that beauty and art is more than skin deep. Nobody is perfect but everyone is absolutely flawless. I advocate feeling sexy no matter what and being proud of every nuance your body has.

cat psoriasis and no

Dermatologists can help some but usually don’t have the answers. I have found blogs from real people have helped me more. Diet, exercise , and getting enough sleep all have a positive effect on skin problems. More fruits and veggies, and whole grains help your immune system. Stay hydrated, use sun block, moisturize with natural coconut oil, relax in sea salt bath soaks, exfoliate, and get some vitamin D in your life. Self tanning lotions and some cover up can also help conceal the patches of yuck.

As far as fashion goes it is important to avoid dark, solid colors. Multicolored or patterned clothing helps to hide flakes. Soft cotton fabrics can feel more soothing than scratchier fabrics like wool or synthetics.

Do not hide behind your clothes, keep them loose and breathable. Sunshine helps. Tight fitting clothing can irritate your skin even more. I often opt for fishnets over bare legs, they offer some coverage without being too constricting.

It’s not your fault and your life and happiness does not need to suffer due to psoriasis. Take time to relax and de-stress, this will help every aspect of your life, including your skin.

The struggle is real. Be open and honest about your psoriasis. I am not ashamed of my body or my skin. I will not hide behind long sleeves and pants in the warm weather. I am proud of myself regardless of petty judgement.

I will take my clothes off shamelessly and make sure the world knows that having a skin disease does not make you less sexy. Don’t live in fear, it’s okay, we are in this together. Show that summer skin you sexy thing.

We have all been there – having that one person in your life that you love so much it scares the shit out of you. The fear of being rejected is one of the most common fears faced by all people. You go to speak your mind and no words form.

When it is impossible to say how you really feel a soul bearing letter or lust inspired poem is the most logical therapy. Trust me it’s better than sending a drunken text message (or writing a letter and putting it in a tin foil swan full of pot brownies and putting them inside his unlocked car – which I’ve done).

I have been writing unsent love letters since my first real crush. I wrote about his blue hair, his love of The Misfits, and about feeling butterflies whenever his skateboard rolled past my house or the fact that he chose to sit next to ME on the bus everyday. My unrequited teenage love is well documented in notebooks full of poems that have never seen the light of day. They are beautiful, honest, sincere, and so very naive.

My newest letters are written in the notes section of my phone, generally when I am stoned and feeling lonely. I get naked on stage for a living and my art and blogs focus on the things that most people fear the most, but I don’t give a fuck. Except when it comes to love, I am still the chicken shit teenager watching every crush move on or get friend zoned because I never told them how I felt. How can someone be so confident but so afraid?

These letters are patched together and may or may not be to the same person, may be old or current, and they are definitely real. They are all for “You,” whoever that may be…

You can listen to this while you read them:

You make me smile and your smile ignites my heart’s desire, a panty fire. Your scent envelopes my sensibilities. Smoking whiskey and drinking marijuana. Forever yearning and burning myself on the oven grates. French bread pizzas instead of French kisses. Great. This is that moment when I try to kiss you and if you kiss me back I tell you exactly how I feel and if it doesn’t work and you don’t then I blame it on the drugs and continue living the lie. Lying on the love seat with you on the couch. I’d rather feel you in my sheets, listen to the sound of your sleep, pressing against me with your perfect nakedness. Baring your soul through a wall. Not greater or more real than the wall around my heart. A barbed wire fence like Pam Anderson’s bad tattoo. With a mote filled with flesh eating trolls. I want to tell you everything.

Mister take my hand. It’s not small like the other girls. The nails are chewed dirty chipped. The callouses and paint stains abundant , hands that work hard, hands that love strong, the hands of an artist, double jointed, scarred. Scared. I want to untangle your hair, defeat the demons that haunt you, undo the girls who have hurt you, relinquish the reasons why you hold back. I feel you in these tepid rain drops, I hear you in every song. I want to be the girl you come home to and the one you let tag along. Let’s inspire eternity in each other, make art and love that lasts far after our eyes are eaten by worms or burned.

It’s hard to leave when all I wanna do is stay. Good night ol’ buddy ol’ pal is what you say, and I guess I can’t have it any other way. I love you like the summertime, more than chicken wings or the sweetest wine, I’d kiss your face and say your fine, live in your warmth ’till the end of time. You sweet man, just doin’ the best you can. I will always be one of many, forever just your biggest fan.

You are so beautiful and I’m terrified I never said anything because I knew it wouldn’t accomplish anything. I will always wonder and hope that you will feel the same way, but just like I have no choice in how I feel about you, you don’t have a choice in not feeling the same. It’s just how life goes, wanting what doesn’t want us back.

You ran away and I wish I had chased. You terrify me and intrigue me equally. The more I get to know you the more I want to know. You make me want to swing dance. You are an incredible artist, fearlessly funny, and you can cook! Take me now.

You are everything I could ever dream for in a human. I know we talked about this once, I don’t want to ever tie you down, your free spirit is what makes you so special.I would love to travel the world and do filthy sexy dirty things to you. I want to activate the benefits portion of our friendship.

You know every single time I leave I want to kiss you goodnight right? I punch the cold early morning air when I get to the bottom of the steep stairs and lock the door behind me “Fuck, why am I so scared?” I always hope to hear you stomp down the stairs,throw the door open, with no words, grab me, and make love right there. Passionate kisses and an animalistic embrace. With only some dirty laundry as our witness. Fuck your couch. Oh to fall asleep in your arms. Sweaty and covered in the musk of lust. I want you so hard that I masturbate to your photos. I think I’m falling in love with you, or whatever that means.

I never needed anything until I saw your beautiful everything, I’m floating. I will cook the foods you love the most, play the records that move your soul. I want to make art with you, because of you, to you. You inspire me to explore, the only one who stops me dead in my tracks, no turning back, and I’m scared that you don’t feel the same, I can’t let you slip away. I’ve got a lot to say but draw a blank. The man in my dreams never had a face until I met you.

She didn’t fart, her intestines just blew you a kiss, just a little whisper in her panties for your pleasure. Must have been those California barking spiders.

It’s a medically proven fact that girls don’t fart. It just doesn’t happen. Little floral scented puffs of glitter arise where noxious gas would have been. We don’t even have assholes actually. No need, since girls don’t shit either.

It is impossible for even the slightest of bad odors to excrete from a lovely delicate female body. Girls don’t have smelly feet, they don’t sweat, and they don’t even get bad breath after eating onions or stinky cheese.

Well, I guess I’m not a girl then. I have a queefing bloody vagina and an ass that makes music and melted chocolate. I usually smell like a footgina, it’s a cross between rotten pussy and that pair of Teva sandals you have worn all summer long.

I belch, impressively loud, quite resonant, and often reminding the world of my poor dietary choices: cheap beer and all the greasiest and most wonderful foods in abundance. My halitosis is only second to the smell that my funky armpits secrete. It’s amazing that I’m still single with the amount of important pheromones I am putting out there.

What did the maxi pad say to the fart? You are the wind beneath my wings. Oh I fart, often and openly. Why would anyone hold that lovely ass perfume in? Those farts that you can taste and burn your eyes, almost to the point you can feel pink eye setting in. Shooting pains and intestinal distress are not worth being “sexy.”

trombone fart

Some other fart terms are turd tremors, tushy ticklers, cutting the cheese, colon bowlin’, cheek squeak, air biscuit, crop dust, tear arse, corn hole clap, exercising the meat nozzle, thunder from down under, heinie hiccup, grundle rumble, sphincter siren, trouser trumpet, ass flapper, or a boom boom booty bomb. I call it free speech.

I once ended an awkward meeting with my boss by letting out the most noxious after lunch violent yet silent but deadly in my closed tiny office. I am also notorious for passing gas on stage during some of my burlesque performances.

One time recently I ate some delicious beer cheese soup about 15 minutes before my set, bad choice. But nobody knew that there were fireworks in my underoos because I kept my cool and played it off. The trick is to let her rip during the loud parts of the song and then use a decorative fan to blow away the smell. If you don’t have a prop just whip them there boobies around, nobody is paying attention to the fart smell when there are titties a wiggling.

I think it adds to the visceral nature of my act. Breaking wind and breaking boundaries, crushing the ideas of what a woman should be.

A girl who is openly odorous in front of a potential mate can be saying she is comfortable enough to Dutch oven you because she is in love and upping the intimacy, or maybe it’s just a sign that you are hardcore friend-zoned and she gives no fucks what you think. Free form flatulence can also be a sign that a girl feels threatened. Girls are a lot like skunks, when nervous our anal glands release that recognizable deadly smell.

learning to fartI fart purely because I don’t care. You may think I’m gross, but I’m just human, doing humanly things without regret or shame. Passing gas is as natural as a cough or a yawn. So don’t blame it on the dog or that fat guy with his crack hanging out that just walked by, own it.

Not proud of this but I have even shit my pants in public before. Shamefully throwing out your underwear in the K-mart bathroom because that taco went right through you. I gambled and lost. Shit happens, literally. And you move on. It’s all part of being alive. Constipation kills. Thankfully this was a one time incident and I’m not at the point where I need to wear Depends on the daily.

I was once hooking up with a guy and we were sleeping next to each other. I was the big spoon as usual, his ass nestled into my thigh. All of a sudden there were fireworks beneath the sheets.

After farting himself awake he jolted out of the bed and ran to the bathroom like lightening. I lifted the sheet to assess the damage and found a little brown puddingesque surprise on my leg, “you might want to bring back a wet cloth” and all I heard was sobbing. He was so embarrassed that he started crying uncontrollably.

I was more turned off by that than the fact there was a distinct slick of dookie on my leg. Everybody poops bro, it’s not ideal to let one out on your lover, but it’s not worth freaking out over either. Needless to say it didn’t work out between us.

I am in love with my body and all of the weird stuff that it does. I recommend letting out a big fart on your next first date, liven things up a bit and see his response to your anal acoustics. It’s a great ice breaker!

Flatter him with flatulence and freedom. A real man will want to bask in your cloud of loveliness. The real smell of a girl with no inhibitions or sense of false perfection. Unforgiving realness is beyond sexy. I guarantee success. I am human, hear me roar!

I went to St. Agnes, a private Catholic kindergarten-8 for elementary school. My parents thought it was better than the questionable inner city public school I would have otherwise attended. Starting at a strict Catholic school gave me an unquenchable lust for breaking the rules.

I was always at the top of my class, but also the one who was ready to challenge the status quo. I remember my first sit in – I was in 4th grade and my gym teacher (who will remain un-named) told the class that all the boys were going to play football and all the girls were going to play on the playground (like proper girls should).

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The Stripteasers, photo by Amanda Glizkowski

I was a tomboy who was bullied due to my size. I always played football with the boys and even had Buffalo Bills season tickets. When I said I was playing, he said an utterly sexist thing: “Go play with the girls, football is for boys only!” I immediately charged over to the other girls and asked them if they would rather play football or swing on the stupid swings like proper ladies were supposed to.

Half of them were with me. We then stood our ground in the middle of the field demanding equal rights. Needless to say, nobody got to play football that day, and I never let anyone tell me I couldn’t do something based on my gender ever again.

My mother wasn’t even mad at me when the angry nun principal called her at home. She was proud that I stood up for what I believed in. I never believed that the God Almighty was a white man on a cloud. I like to think of the real God as Alanis Morrisette in the film Dogma.

In 7th grade, I wrote Horoscopes for the first ever school newspaper. They were all incredibly uplifting and completely un-serious, based on Teen magazines. The priest and sisters saw this as an act of pure heresy! Horoscopes are meant to gain insight on one’s future, the Bible forbids divination and sorcery. Therefore astrology is a sin. The first and last school newspaper published was pulled and confiscated from all students due to its unholy content.

Early on I knew I was an artist but I never felt challenged by the art program (or lack thereof) at my school. My art teacher’s idea of good art was having us copy her work exactly. The closer you were to the original, the better your grade was.

Knowing this was bullshit, I always went in my own direction. I produced my own version of the project, aka REAL ART! The teacher graded me poorly on every project, saying I did not follow school rules. I replied with the bold statement ART HAS NO RULES!

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Zombettes by John Carocci

She was probably jealous of my artistic voice, now I realize that she was just doing her job, teaching a good Catholic curriculum. Thankfully my parents took me to outside art classes at a neighborhood art center and the Albright Knox Art Gallery. There I was able to flourish and learn about how to become a true unbridled creative human. I would never have made it without that artistic nourishment.

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The Stripteasers, photo by Amanda Glizkowski

I have always been intrigued by queer counterculture. When the topic of marriage came up I was the first to speak up for human rights. My religion teacher never had a good response for why our church didn’t accept ALL kinds of love, just saying that same sex couples were wrong. I never accepted that and knew that any God who could hate people who love each other was the one who was wrong.

The music department was a joke. The joke was on them, though, when we sang a re-written version of openly gay George Michael’s “Faith” for the talent show. I wish I remembered more of the lyrics, but I clearly remember “Jesus, I know you’re asking me to pray” instead of “Baby, I know you’re asking me to stay.” The same night some of us also did choreography to a Spice Girls song. The girl power and queer voice was strong in that talent show. Years later, the Spice Girls would become the first band I ever did burlesque to.

For The Stripteasers’ Midnight Mass show I was dressed as the pope and there were also naughty nuns, bad school girls (much worse than Britney Spears) and an innocent alter boy. We simulated sodomy on stage to George Micheal’s “Father Figure” and it was incredible. That number is so blasphemous that people have walked out disgusted every time.

I was part of a Seven Deadly Sins show, but the one that takes the cake as my ticket to eternal damnation is the Oh Unholy a Night! show where, as The Zombettes, we parodied the nativity. I was Broseph and my best friend (who ironically I met at Catholic School) was the Virgin Mary.

She was actually eight months pregnant during the routine! Her bloody tears and inverted cross pasties were memorable. We danced to Marilyn Manson’s Personal Jesus and it was exquisite. Here’s the video:

The Zombettes also performed in the basement of a former Catholic Church now converted to performance space and I was a nun performing an exorcism. I tore pages from a real Bible while my bestie spit fake blood on to the audience, simulated master-bating with a crucifix, and screamed Whore of Christ! She was wearing the actual little plaid skirt that I wore when we met.

God, life is good when you are a non-believer.

Top image by John M. Borsa

* Also, on St-Patrick’s Day, Cat did win the Whiskernia contest she wrote about last week. Congrats!

It all starts here. I was a little six year old blonde girl, I had a dog and a dream. Then I saw Batman Returns and stuff changed.

Remember Michelle Pfeiffer as Cat Woman? Awee Yeaaaa, I know you do, that image is in everyone’s spank bank. That sleek, shiny vinyl/leather suit. Those razor sharp claws, snapping whip and acrobatic backflips. That perfectly mysterious mask. Those red lips, milky white skin, and that sultry voice really left an effect on me. You can say I had cat scratch fever.

I mean don’t get me wrong, Eartha Kitt was amazing and Halle Barry is hot, but nobody holds a candle to Michelle Pfeiffer in that role. She was, by far, the hottest woman I had ever seen. I wanted to be just like her. Even when she went nuts and got all evil, she made being a crazy cat lady look so damn sexy.

I only wanted one cat, as a sign of my independence and to prove to myself that I could take care of something other than myself. Ziggy Cropdust Sinclair-McCarthy, my Maine coon main man, aka Mr. Fluffy Pants, fell into my life and I loved him instantly and forever.

Fate then threw two little black kittens under my porch and into my heart. After helping nurse them back to health, Beau and Lola are now also my children. My mother lovingly refers to them all as her grandkittens. I’m happy she finally approves of my lifestyle choice.

cats cats

Today I live in a six cat household (three are my roommates’ cats). It’s wonderful. The pitter patter of little paws doing laps around the house, then deviously knocking shit over when you are trying to sleep and wrestling like assholes.

The little sweet fur babies make my world feel better. They know when I’m sad and love me regardless of my flaws. They climb all over me and knead my fleshy dough.

They don’t ask for much, just some snuggles, food, toys, a clean place to poop , and the occasional belly rub. That’s really all I require in a relationship too, that’s why we get along so well.

I love the feeling of a bed full of purring felines. If you close your eyes you can imagine laying on a vibrating heart shaped bed in a tacky motel room. However it’s a little hard to bring someone home to that.

cat as a catWell, for starters, if you want to sleep with me you absolutely cannot be allergic to cats. You also have to be an exhibitionist of sorts because chances are one or more of them will be watching us like a creep, lingering in the shadows.

If I do by chance wrangle them out they will be scratching to get in instantly making my heart melt, ruining any chances of continued intimacy. I usually don’t have any issues though.

Cats also inspire my art. One of my very first burlesque numbers was as cat woman to Janet Jackson’s Black Cat. My Kitty Porn series, collages of cat heads on porno bodies, has been a theme of my work for the last year.

There’s a reason why the ancient Egyptians worshipped them and they are the most Instagramed pet on the internet. Cats are just plain wonderful.

I am a crazy Cat Woman, hear me roar!

* Top illustration by Amy Duengfelder