Thursday, March 31, 2011

Blog 16..Lessons from a King & Queen..part one

Blog 16: Lessons from a King and Queen…(part one)

Now being a princess, it makes sense to say that my parents are a King and Queen. And it makes perfect sense to me, I must confess.

When it comes to parents, I am fucking blessed. They have supported me in all the directions I have taken in life, and failed, and still supported my next adventure. No one has had my back more. Through the hard times I have gone through, I have never felt alone. They have been my rock and my salvation and a blessing that I am eternally grateful for…times a million.
I would not be the positivity princess that I am if it were not for the two greatest gifts that I have in my life.

As I grew older I learned to truly listen to the things that they were telling me…after all, I wish I could be like them….blessed with a happy relationship after 38 years (they still hold hands and my dad still spanks my mom’s ass….he does not smell it afterwards though…don’t know if they are ready for the “spank and sniff”…see blog 3) Is life always perfect for them, no….but they weather the storm so nicely, and they are successful, busy, and I think fulfilled individuals that make a cohesive unit that….sparkle.

Lessons from the Queen (part one)
Now my mom slips those lessons into her sentences… got to kind of make sure you get the whole thing (my dad is more in your face with it.) My mom has been a Catholic School teacher at the same school a half block down from our house for like 40 plus years..
a perfect example of my mom is:
I went to the house for dinner and was pretty much doing back flips and hyperventilating turning myself into an awesome shade of purple when I found out PRINCE was coming to town. I bounded into the house and up the stairs screaming to my mom..she looks at me and goes “Who”
Stopped in mid-flip, looking like I had swallowed air backwards I managed to let out, “you don’t know who PRINCE is?........" she just shrugged.
I ran into the dinning room to sit down and told my dad what had just happened..he said.
“Your mom is on a need to know basis, its okay.”
My mom than asked my Dad if he knew who PRINCE was and he said, “Of Course.” My mom shrugged again and started to serve dinner, unfazed…I was still in shock…..(she, of course just went on her marry way almost in body language to me saying, …whatever, im still cool, I know it.)

My mom knows enough about enough shit that I don’t think it bothers her that she doesn’t know everything…she knows she is still one smart ass lady.

The two first lessons:
Lesson One: Now she taught me a bunch before, but I didn’t really start listening to my mom till I was about 24 years old. Before that time I had been quite heavy, a plus to this was that my boobs where huge, being a young hippy, I did not wear a bra from the ages of about 18 to 23. With double D boobs at the time, well….look out world….
for years my mom said, “Wear a bra, you will thank me later, if you don’t your boobs will sag.” I of course thought nothing of it.
Around the time I was 23 years old, I started to lose weight… A year later I was 80lbs lighter, and my boobs had not only gone down to a C cup, but now, if I was ever “on top” I would lean over and my tits would look like tear drops ready to fall. I have gained a little weight back, so its not that bad, but ohhhhh the tear drop factor is still there.
My mom just looks at me and shakes her head and says,
“I told you to wear a bra”….the lady is over 60 and has perky boobs than me….chicken fucker.

Lesson Two: This is a lesson that would have saved me a lot of grief….totally. At the time I left my husband, one of my really good friends found out her live in boyfriend had cheated on her after 7 years. My mom looked at me when I told her and said, “never move in with someone until you are engaged, once you move in, it is to hard to get out, know that the person is ‘the one’ before taking that step.”
I moved in with my ex-husband 3 months after we started to go out. There where many times in our relationship that I knew it was not right, but I never left…if we weren’t living together, would it have been so hard. We would have not shared the pets, the responsibility, we made ourselves co-dependent on each other way to early in the relationship, and than we became stuck…once you are stuck sometimes it is easier to sink that to climb, and you fall. If I lived on my own, I think I might have not married him, I think our relationship would have never gotten to that point. Moving in with someone limits you to what you are aware off, and binds you in a relationship in ways that we do not realize…besides, moving is a bitch…in or out, avoid it at all costs…totally.

Lessons from a King..(part one)
My father is a truly amazing man. He is a healer, and has healed many with his own hands. His energy and his being is flooring. The way he looks at life has some of the zen most qualities a person could have, and he lives for his work. I get my work ethic and my humor from my dad…..perfect examples of him lie in his lessons.

Lesson One: It will all work out, it always does.
For years I have heard this from my dad, and it has become my motto in life and has helped me through my tuff trips.
Cause lets me honest does work out, always, the way it is suppose to. It might not be the way that you want it to, but it might lead to something in the future that you never thought possible. I have been able to realize this from the second lesson my father taught me.

Lesson Two: Surrender.
I remember the first time I had psoriasis, I was homeless at the time and my friends were letting me crash at their house, I was sitting on their porch, crying my eyes out, talking to my dad on the phone, watching the sunset.
He told me that I had to come to terms with my disease, that I just had to deal, that is how life is.
He said, “learn how to surrender… let it all go. Learn how to just be okay with things, to be happy no matter what, because life is life.. We all go through it, you don’t get a special pass…yours is hard to, now just surrender and deal with it….enjoy the lessons, it makes them easier to learn.”

It is a hard lesson, and one I work on daily. But I can honestly say that I make a constant effort to simply surrender, to let life be, what my life decides to be, and to truly try to be positive and okay with it all, because if I don’t surrender to it I am just going to be bitter, and that is not a good state of mind for me.

So surrender and it will all work out the way it is suppose to.

Lesson Three: Remember to Breathe.
Man this is one lesson that has totally helped, whether from epic spaceship rides to times as a waitress when I am slammed to fights with friends that I am having. To take a moment and take a deep breath and focus on that, really centers the fuck out of you. It collects me in times of craziness. It helps me remember to surrender and if anything it is a second break from all the dealings that I am dealing with.


Have I learned more lessons from my parents, of course, but this is a blog not a book so we will save the others for later.

****Side note****
to the lady that got mad at my tits (blog 13) I have been doing some research.
I walked to and from work one day in one of my dresses, that make my tits look awesome, and the next day I walked to work in my workout pants, that make my ass look awesomeness and my ugg boots and a wife beater.
Well let me tell you..I should just keep on the dress movement, cause my ass might cause some traffic accidents. I mean I butt walk every day up hills, you could bounce a quarter off my ass and have it hit Jack London square in Oakland and it would clear the bridge to. I get way more cat calls in my workout gear than one of my dresses. Reason number 384 that the chick in the independent bathroom should have kept her mouth shut, I was doing the lesser of two evils, trust me.

Fishing the friend back.
Have you ever been at a show with your friends and you get the crowd drifter that walks right into your group of peeps and separates you messing up your joint rotation…totally not cool.
Well a fix it solution for this is to “go fishing”
Get your line nice and tight, now cast it, throwing it over your shoulder…letting it sail in the air for a second, oh it landed in the water,…pull the line in for a second, oh, oh…you got a bite, give it a little tug. Now at this moment your downstream friend should make a little fish fin and start bouncing in your direction….pull the line in more, ohhh, the fish got a little bounce off the rock (the crowd drifter) and you got the fish…another down stream friend might have to run in with a net……way to fish people…good job.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Blog 15...Limo Confessions...(PART ONE)

Blog 15…Limo Confessions……(PART ONE).

No, this is not a misprint, just cause I live in the tenderloin, does not mean I travel without style….and a true city girl (a princess, no less) going to have a town car and several taxis on call.
When I moved to the Tenderloin, I realized, sometimes a cab can be a bitch and a half to find….And me being cute…(this always helps) town cars and limos started to stop when I was hailing cabs…I remember my first one……….

Town Car Driver A………
I get into the town car….I am frazzled, he asks where I am off to, I give him a general location…he wants to know what I am up to…I say..”I am picking up some weed.” (ahhhh the joys of living in San Francisco, have I told you SF how much I love you.)

He turns in his seat and goes…”You smoke weed, here try this”…pulls out a sick pre-rolled joint of Purple Kush from a medical tub and we start smoking in the car. He then gives me some hash…and a brownie….tells me I am one cool chick…I have him drop me off me two blocks from my spot (I am not a ding dong and am not going to have him do door to door service at a pot deal, come on peeps)

I ask him how much….He told me it was free, any time I needed a ride to call, and he would charge me then….um awesomeness…more weed for me to buy…totally.

Now there were a couple of problems with Town Car A.
He kinda had a crush on me, I don’t like that shit, be my friend damm it, stop trying to confuse shit. My heart is confused already enough…be my fucking friend, that says a whole lot more….

And the chicken fucker barely worked.

A good taxi or town car driver has set hours or days, and can pick you up 90% of the time…this guy batted about 10%.

However one night after The Harley Strickly Bluegrass Festival, I had three shows to see (I am a BISS girl after all…check out The first was Cornmeal at Hotel Utah, which if any of you know is bitch to find a cab. I walked out at midnight, ready to jump into a cab and dash to my two other shows. As I walked outside I saw a hot chick on every corner trying to hail cabs and looking desperate…I new I was going to have to use my resources. I called all my cabbies (I had only been here for a bit, now my list is huge)…no one answered…so I tried Town Car Driver A…he was actually working, and would be there in 10….omg…awesomeness times 10…….
I was in a fucking hurry.

The girl who was on my corner came back for a minute and came up to her friends saying how she had been on the corner for 20 minutes and no cabs had stopped for her, all she wanted to do was go home…..

Welllll……Out came my imaginary sparkle cape, because a mama in need, is a mama in need….indeed.

I asked where she was going…it was in the direction of my next show….
I told her I had called someone to come and pick me up, if she wanted to share a ride…I would be happy to….she looked me up and down…

I know, I know…being nice surprises the shit out of people sometimes.

She told me that would be awesome but she would still try…. I just shrugged (I have learned you can not force people to understand me being simply nice)…

The time passed….this chicks arm must have been killing her…I got a text from home slice…he would be there in two. I offered the chick my pipe and told her he would be here in two minutes, relax, smoke some weed, it will all work out…..oh and then I dropped the fact that he was a town car driver.
Well now she really didn’t believe me and ran to the curb franticly waving her arms, just then I came to her side and waved at my driver who was pulling up….He jumped out to open the door, I told him to stop…
“no no…Sunny you are a VIP” was his response….I let the chick go in first.

A look of pure shock had taken over her face, I explained to the driver the situation with the chick and he said “No Problem”…I asked how much..”for you Sunny…its free…lets get you ladies where you need to go.”

The shock looked had been now followed with a jaw dropping… she then turned to me and said..”Am I dreaming”

At that very moment Town Car Driver A…turned around in his seat at the light and handed me one of his big ole fatty joints and said “Spark this shit up Sunny.”

I turned to the chick to answer her question the only way I knew how…”TOTALLY”

(Just to let you all know…the driver dropped chick off, which was just enough time for me to catch part of show Two, then as I was leaving I called my friends from the Cornmeal show who were suppose to meet me at the Third show and asked how getting a cab was going, after being called a chicken fucker, I informed them the driver and I would be picking them up in 5.)

Now from working in North Beach…sometimes there are no cabs, or town cars…but there were stretch limos…totally.

Memory A.
I was walking from a Comedy show to run an “errand” and was going to meet my friends back at the show and we were going to do the town up. Well I was in a hurry so as I was walking I was hailing a cab at the same time (you have got to multi-task peeps) Well…a stretch limo stopped…and asked where I was going…I said just 10 blocks down then back to the club…he said he was just driving up and down Columbus, would I like a ride….”Totally” He let me out a half block away and off I went, I came out 5 minutes later and he was waiting for me…AWESOEMENSS…I hop in..I ask him how much to take my crew (there are about 13 of us) to the next show…he said..”Normally about 80-100 bucks, but for you Sunny…$40”…

I will say it once, I will say it twice..see peeps..

So how awesome did I feel having run a successful errand and picking my peeps up in pimp stretch limo….
Lets give it an awesomeness times 11.

Memory B…
My job at North Beach had its moments..The night my bras got stolen (Who the fuck is sniffing my bras……chicken fucker) I was upset, I had gotten yelled at that evening to for being upset about my bras getting stolen, it was pouring, it was a busy night, there were no cabs…I just wanted to get home, shower and go dance my pain away to live music.
These are moments when the “How much money is your time worth” flashes in your head..I am a broke bitch, but I am a time squeezed bitch to.
I yelled at the stretch limo across the street, he waved me over…I ran up to his window and asked how much……..
He told me I looked a mess and to hop on in….I got in the front, a balling mess. Once I got in the tears poured out like the rain came from the sky…I managed to tell the driver I was going to the tenderloin…he started to drive. He put on some Otis Redding and pulled out a bottle of Vodka from underneath his seat and handed me the bottle…I started to remember to breath…I asked if he smoked pot….a big smile came over his face. I pulled out my pipe packed it up, handed him greeners and took another sip off the bottle. We didn’t talk…I just cried and he just sang along with Otis, and we passed the bowl back and forth.
He dropped me off and I asked how much..he said 10 bucks..(a normal cab would have been $8.) I asked if he wanted his tip in nug or cash…I handed him a nug and into my apartment I went…….

Sometimes the two extra bucks gives you a whole new piece of mind.

There are many more Limo Confessions….

Until then…LET’S DANCE.

Directing the Traffic..
Now while this is an awesome dance to do as your friends are crossing the street, may I also recommend it if you are at a crowded show and find yourself in a spot where you have a lot of traffic.
(I tend to be totally loaded when I do this dance)
I also take moves from the “airline stewardess dance”
..And the most important rule of this dance is..LADIES FIRST…because remember,
you have got to be fucking proper.
So you start directing the flow of traffic, this usually involves one arm straight with your pointer finger arched and a circular movement with your other arm, because lets me can not have someone make themselves a speed talking or spacing out allowed (you are going to be doing that enough)…you have got to keep traffic moving at a good flow if you are going to be directing it….But wait, stop the flow (this is a hand up)…a lady is crossing at an intersection, I usually yell “hot mama coming through”…alright, you can wave them on by, I usually point out the exits and bathrooms, let people know that there are no slides…but the isles do light up in case of emergency…….and stop…A lady is coming…and wave them on through….TOTALLY.

Monday, March 21, 2011

Blog 14....Good Morning Tenderloin


Good morning Tenderloin, man do you smell like piss today. Seriously, did it not just rain the other day, what is up with the intense build up of piss. I stopped drinking coffee cause of my psoriasis, and let me tell you, who needs coffee when living in the Tenderloin. I walked out of my apartment, saw a hooker’s ass hanging out of a van pissing, works way better than coffee, I don’t know if it’s in a good way…but I’m up bitches…totally.

I wonder if we could start a thing that encourages people to piss on like a two block radius of the tenderloin and rent is lowered like $200 a month for all those who have to smell…..hmmm some how I have a feelin that I would try for that and then it would be my street, isn’t that how that shit always works out….chicken fucker.

Now this morning is just like any other… why am I yelling “Good Morning Tenderloin”….it’s cause there has been a shift in my life.

I’m sure a lot of people are calling me a chicken fucker, I mean what could be so good about a Monday morning, it’s the beginning of the work week…a notorious ‘Manic’ Monday……but let me tell you something…I got a new job, and they are okay with me being me….it makes Mondays….sparkle.

Now in no way shape or form is it my dream job. I’m not writing a column or helping change the world, and I still have more than a handful of other jobs….I just quit one of my many jobs, but the change….i feel it…it brings a glow to me I have trouble explaining. (and no, I did not get new glitter)

As an old restaurant owner, it is hard for me to work in any restaurant that is not mine. The “Pride in my Work” is a hard thing to regain. It is difficult for me to work in any place, where there is a “chef” and not think of my ex-husband and his temper behind the line.

The job that I left…amoung not having a set schedule, having a chef that I would look in the eye and say “hi” and have him look at me and turn away, never saying “hi”, having my bras stolen and them telling me its my fault, my ass grabbed constantly, never being told how much of a good worker I am…never feelin the love…and on top of that…

Those bitches would not let me wear glitter or my feather earrings….chicken fuckers…times 10.

Their reasoning behind the “no glitter, no feather” rule was that since we were in North Beach and we get tourists…we wanted to make the customers from Utah and Kanas, feel like they were at home and we did not want to SCARE them.

First off…
What pussies are scared of glitter and feathers. I’m not walking around in a Friday the 13th outfit,(however you all do let me carry my corkscrew….tee hee hee) When the hell did a girl wearing glitter as eye shadow and colorful earrings start to freak people out. Nutt up and deal here peeps…we all can’t be the same…how boring.

Um, don’t people from Utah and Kanas come here to see something different..Isn’t one of the greatest things about this city is how we all express ourselves and have our own style. If they wanted to not be scared wouldn’t the tourist have gone to Nebraska…or stay the fuck home.

(here is a little side note…the customers loved my glitter…80% of them commented on how they like it, and asked where I got my earrings…not to mention my sales of SPARKLING WATER went through the roof)

Not to mention the fact…I am a damm good employee. I used to have to pay people…and having done this, I will be dammed if I am the type of worker that just stands around and talks.(when you have to pay people to work, it puts a whole new perception on shit) I will clean the gum off from underneath tables, I’ll clean all the hard to reach areas, I’ll organize, I will do whatever I can to work and not stand still…and I care.

I knew I had to leave my old job when I started not to care.

And as mentioned before my new job is not my ‘dream job’

Let be honest here people…what lucky fuckers have their dream job…not a lot.
The reality of the situation is that I have to work..6+ jobs. I have to make money to live and eat and do my thing. If I could live in fairyland where working was not needed, well….than awesomeness…but I live in the tenderloin. And remember peeps, reality is a bitch.

But….At my new job, they encourage me to be me, because the are aware that me rocks…and it encourages me, to rock it even harder.

I walk in and not only does the chef say “hi” but he also says……..”YEAH…it sparkles, with moonbeams and rainbows and unicorns shitting sparkles” I run around glittering customers that come back and request me, I have a pumpkin pen that flashes an orange light, I dance to the music, I get to wear glitter (please note, it is my day time glitter that I wear, not my night time glitter, there is a time and place for everything) And my feathers aren’t 3 earrings long, just one, I can compromise and still be me.

And they say “thank you” from the manager, to the chef, to the 3 owners, all of them have said thank you for me being the hard worker that I am, for my positive attitude, for my work ethic, they have all said how “awesomeness” it has to have me…how much I make the restaurant sparkle….no its not my dream job, but damm it feels good.

I have worked so hard to be me…to be a beacon of positiveity. To finally have people notice and not put it down as me being weird is a gift that I cherish. I don’t mind working harder, longer, caring for a place that normally I wouldn’t.

Having people except you for you and saying thank you for it is an amazing feeling, and something that we should bring out in everyone.

Please, Please, remember to say thank you….it is fucking important.

Trust me, I know from experience.

To sum it all up….
Find a place and people that lets you be you, you will be so much happier. Find a place that fits your mood, if people are angry and stern and wear St John’s Bay, it might not be the place for you (now granted, make it work, suck it up and deal until something better comes a long, because you gotta work and you might as well enjoy)…but never be afraid of something better, never stop looking for improvement…never stop searching for a place or thing that encourages you to be more you.
In turn, encourage people to be more them, to embrace who they are and all that is positive in them. People will start to sparkle and won’t even have glitter.

Remember what Ken Kesey said….
“The answer is never the answer. What’s really interesting is the mystery. If you seek the mystery instead of the answer, you will always be seeking. I’ve never seen anybody really find the answer-they think they have, so they stop thinking. But the job is to seek the mystery, envoke mystery……..The need for the mystery is greater than the need for the answer.”

I feel most people are unaware of the powers they hold within themselves….be encouraged to be you…be encouraged to be happy…and let the mystery unfold….and encourage it in others…

If you have that attitude, you can go anywhere, even the tenderloin….and find a most awesomeness mystery you never knew existed.

…When was the last time you did “The Bull”
This dance is oh so simple, I highly recommend not doing it to anyone holding a drink, you might get wet…just a heads up.
So you start by kinda pointing your right foot…ohhhhh, don’t forget your horns..take your two pointer fingers and give yourself a fierce set of take your pointed foot, and in a circular motion, bring your food back lifting your knee, kinda like you are kicking dirt (like a dog does after he shits)…then…CHARGE….you don’t want to hit anyone to hard, I usually aim for the bicep…but remember you are a bull, and a bull is not a pussy….and repeat…and as always, keeps your eye out for the matador…and glass pipes in pockets, they have been known to hurt.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Blog 13...Don't yell at my tits.....

Blog 13….Don’t yell at my tits….

Ladies and Gentleman, don’t get mad at my tits…I promise they won’t get mad at you. I mean they have been known to slap a dude in the face…but I think they kinda enjoyed it….anyhoo

Let’s recall the situation.

I was at the beginning of a 5 show run…..(2 nights of Medeski, Martin & Wood, 2 nights of North Mississippi Allstars and a Umphree’s McGee tease on the last night.)…I am still tired, especially after those ding dongs who run the time took a freakin hour from me…CHICKEN FUCKERS… don’t fuck with my sleep.

Back to the Situation.

I was in the Ladies Room the first night and as a sauntered out of the stall I was looking fierce. I know I was cause I felt it. Sporting one of my “top 5” dresses, and feeling like the workouts I’d been grueling myself through were finally paying off, I went to wash my hands. Another lady was washing her hands, she looked at me and said….

“Well you must get a lot of guys talking to you…I can’t believe you dress like that for guys….maybe if you covered your chest people would talk to you for you, and all that glitter…don’t you think you are trying to hard… you really get that many guys coming up to you? Is it worth it?”

With a look of ‘what the fuck just crapped out of your mouth’ on my face, I told the chicken fucker,
“I thought people talked to me for the simply fact that I am so awesome…guys hit on me whether Im dressed like this or working out, I thought they hit on me for me.”

Her noise arched and brought her eyes together and she looked me up and down and said “okay,” smirked and waited for me to say something else.

Not wanting to go off on a bitch, and have the incident ruin my show, or get kicked out for punting a chick across The Independent, I decided to add a little more glitter (I asked her if she wanted some….hmmmm, ‘no’ was her answer, I wonder why.) Put some glitter on my chest (you got to sparkle,) make sure my boobs were nice and at attention, gave my ass a little shake in the mirror, and boogied on out of the bathroom back to my show.

I didn’t want to pay the girl anymore thought at my show….that time was for my music and my church. However, let me address the situation so I can get it out of my mind.

I do not dress for any man, I do not dress for anything, anyone…...BUT ME.

If I look good and I feel good, well than AWESOMENESS, if I don’t…I don’t go out. I am a firm believer in being the best me that me can be…times 10. Don’t get mad a me, cause I do it damm good, get encouraged to do you the best that you can do.

I wear dresses, because I like dresses, they are comfortable to me…I don’t like my legs a whole bunch and I feel that dresses bring out the best in my body according to my eyes. I am curvy, dresses usually accentuate my small waist, slide down my hips and make my breast look awesomeness times 10.

Why would I not want to look awesomeness times 10…
Why would I want to look anything less….

I am not shy about my body..I love it. Do I wish I was skinnier, could wear short skirts or a bikini…totally, but Im not…so fuck it…I m going to do what makes me feel good.
I was under the impression, while Im sure guys, and ladies like my tits, they talk to me because they see that look in my eye..and they keep on talking to me to try to figure me out, and once they do they get it…I AM FREAKING AWESOMENESS.

I mean Im a total ding dong, but Im not embarrassed by it, I embrace it…I snort when I laugh, I say shit that makes people go “what?” I make a fool out of myself on a constant basis, but I am a truly kind hearted person…
And I ain’t never going to judge you by how you dress, how you laugh, or how you can be a ding dong…I am going to only encourage you to be you…times 10.

I am going to encourage you to look, be and feel the most awesomeness that you can, as I expect you to do the same for me.

When I get dressed, I want to look and feel good. I don’t give a flying fuck what anyone else thinks, my opinion of myself is truly the only one that matters (Im the one who sleeps with me, who lives with me) I have nice boobs, I embrace that shit, I embrace everything that there is about me, cause I don’t even want to think about the alternative. I love glitter (I glittered like 60-75 peeps at the Boom Boom Room on Saturday night, tee hee hee, the whole room sparkled….I have an addiction to glitter which we will discuss later)

When I think I look good I exude self confidence and self love.
Which is the greatest gift I can give anyone.

And I feel that is what people are most attracted to. Not my chest. (and if you think I am dumb enough to not realize when someone is just talking to me because of how I look, you are more of a ding dong than I am.)

I did not always have this love for myself.

I used to be 230 pounds, I lost 80 pounds, I got sick, gained some back (boobs got bigger, whoop whoop) lost everything from my money, to my confidence, to my friends, to my house, to my restaurant, and the place I called home for 10 years.

To be humbled is a wonderful lesson in life.
It has taught me to always be the best me I can be, no matter what the situation.
And that no matter what, I will always have me.

And due to that fact…

So you want to give me shit for being awesome…go ahead, it falls on deaf ears.

Ears that are to busy hearing myself tell me that I am the shit….

Something that if everyone looked in the mirror and told themselves…….they would not have the time to worry about everyone else.

And if we all just did us the best we could, we couldn’t really hate on anyone, because we are fucking trying…and that is all we can ask of anyone.

I encourage people to do and be the best and most awesomeness they can, and that way we all encourage each other. Instead of holding people back because of our preconceived notions or judgements, we should encourage everyone to sparkle....

So don’t get mad at me that I have tits…motorboat that shit up,
Or show off your legs, or your smile, or the curve of your back…show off what you love about you, and embrace what we love about each other….CHICKEN FUCKER.

On a side note…
Someone told me how impressed they were that I walk through the Tenderloin at 3am not scared of nothing, without a care in the world.

I said “why would I be scared”

I took it as a huge compliment…..times 11.

Also…If you motorboat breasts that have been smeared in glitter…be prepared for a glittersash.

Dance of the week:
based on a true dance move story....
(please have some glitter in your hand)..Now this move I practiced as above mentioned at the Boom Boom Room, it can also be used anywhere, just be prepared for 70% of the people being happy, and about 30% of the people being upset...but hey, you are batting way above average.
So you walk up to random peeps and smear, blow, or attack them with glitter, getting as many people as possible.. I like to say "Don't be afraid to sparkle" or "Spread the Sparkle" or "Nutt up and deal with some glitz" whatever works for you....spread the glitter, sit back, put some shades on...and enjoy.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Blog 12...what defines a CHICKEN FUCKER..wait a minute

Blog 12…..What defines a “CHICKEN FUCKER”

****warning**** if you are offended by the term CHICKEN FUCKER, stop reading.

Well if any of you have read my previous blogs…you know I use the word CHICKEN FUCKER quite often. In fact my first blog got shut down because of my use of the word. Yesterday I wrote down or took a mental note every time I used the word CHICKEN FUCKER….so lets go over what it is so you all can use it right.

The origin of CHICKEN FUCKER..
No it is not from South Park…I still need to watch that episode, but the term actually came from a Widespread Panic lot in 2005 at the Gorge in Washington. I was there with my ex-husband (chicken fucker) and we were cruising the lot selling brownies and such, all of a sudden we walked up upon a fight about to break out. These two guys were yelling at each other about some stupid shit and the one guy had his fist raised like he was about to clock the other guy. Well the other guy walked right up to homie’s face and said….”Oh yeah, well you are a CHICKEN FUCKER”

Still with his fist pulled back the guy looked at the other and said with a weird smile…”Did you just call me a CHICKEN FUCKER”…..and like that he lowered his fist and the other guy started to laugh and than they started to talk and joke around…I turned to my ex-husband and said…
“I have got to use that”….hence….

When is CHICKEN FUCKER a compliment or a good thing…..
Examples of good CHICKEN FUCKERS are as follows….

-my friend who I love deeply went to New Orleans and decided she liked it so much she would stay for half a year…CHICKEN FUCKER…I am so jealous, I wanna go to New Orleans, I have never been…grumble, grumble….and now I see all these awesome pictures of her at Mardi Gras……just rub it in my face why don’t you.

-I have a couple friends that have awesome jobs in the music industry and get to travel all around and just see great music all the CHICKEN FUCKERS…

-From Irish dancing for so long my legs are pretty thick..all you ladies with nice slim legs..CHICKEN FUCKERS…I wish I looked as good as you all do in short dresses.

I guess when you are happy for someone or even impressed you can call them a CHICKEN FUCKER and it is meant as a compliment.


Sometimes I just call random peeps CHICKEN FUCKERS and go “bawk, bawk bawk” and do my little chicken dance…just to fuck with people…why not. They look at me like I’m nuts (like I don’t already know this ding dongs) but sometimes you need to be called a CHICKEN FUCKER….just because.

When is the term CHICKEN FUCKER meant in a bad way.

-someone steals my cab…CHICKEN FUCKER

-some ding dong cuts me off in line at the bar cause they can not wait for their drink even though I have waited patiently…CHICKEN FUCKER

-I see some guy yelling at his lady in public (or the other way around) CHICKEN FUCKER…(come on peeps keep your arguments behind closed doors, don’t pass your drama on to everyone else)…CHICKEN FUCKERS times 10.

-I hand you a nice freshy bowl to get a green hit and you “helicopter” it and burn the whole thing instead of just hitting the corner so we can all get greeners…CHICKEN FUCKER

and so on and so on.
Are you all starting to catch on.

And sometimes we are a CHICKEN FUCKER because we have to be.

-my ex-husband loved me, and when we were together, we really tried, but when we broke up (because we could not love each other the way we needed to be loved) we both acted like CHICKEN FUCKERS cause we were both hurt. But it is what helped us get past the pain, it helped us become who we are today.

-I had to leave Eugene in a hurry, I knew I was going down the wrong path, I had to go so fast that I owe my really good friend some money…I am a CHICKEN FUCKER…because I need to pay him back (and I will). If I had money now it would have happened…but I’m a broke bitch with just $20 bucks I have till tommomorrow night. But if I had stayed I would probably end up owing him more and I would be unhappy and in a very dark place. I had to leave, or incidences of me being a “chicken fucker” would multiply. Sometimes you got to just call it a loss and deal.

The fact of the matter is sometimes you got to do what you got to do.
And sometime you have to be okay with being a CHICKEN FUCKER because you are doing what is best for you, and you have to be okay with someone else being a CHICKEN FUCKER cause they are doing what is best for them.

***side note***
when I get loaded I call everyone a CHICKEN FUCKER…doesn’t even matter if you played drums for the Grateful Dead…I am all about equality in calling people CHICKEN FUCKERS.


I hope you all have a better understanding of the term..
your homework assignment for this blog is to go call at least 3 people CHICKEN FUCKERS..
(remember yourself counts)

One thing I like about the term is that is makes me even if it is meant in a bad sort of can still laugh it off…which is key.


What else…
start by putting your hands by your hips and doing that I’m getting a lady from behind move and imagine grabbing her ass and pulling it towards you..back and forth….
Okay now do your chicken dance (sometimes you gotta fuck before you chicken.)…I put my hands on my hips and move my neck back and forth while my triangle shaped arms flap back and forth..after a couple steps..i do the chicken shake it on down now..i start the shake in my head and let it wiggle all the way down to my my ass an extra shaking…of course..have you seen my ass, gotta shake it as much as possible…now back to the “air humping”..and repeat.

Monday, March 7, 2011

Blog 11...Lets talk about AWESOMENESS...lets talk about you and me, and the tenderloin.

Blog 11….Lets talk about awesomeness…lets talk about you and me…..and the tenderloin.

Thought One
I have noticed in recent conversations with others, how much they talk about other people, and issues they have with them. Instead of doing that, and talking about how you don’t like how someone does this, or says that, how bout you all just talk about how awesome
I am...…or you are…....or everyone is for that matter.
Instead of speaking down about someone because of how they choose to live their life, or what they do to get by and make themselves happy. Talk about what they do right. Let’s be honest, what works for one, does not work for another…and who are we to judge. One person might like on drug and the other can’t stand it…that doesn’t mean one is better than the other…we are all different peeps, stop judging and embrace it. And if you find yourself surrounded by people talking shit, I wanna hear…
..or say it about yourself, or the person people are talking about…how bout instead of all this negative energy (hippies are suppose to be positive) we simply put out good, and embrace people for who and how they are because that is what works for them, it is what helps them deal with life. If you feel you do it better, lead by example, don’t force, we all have to learn our lessons some way or another. And sometimes we have to learn from being a chicken fucker or from seeing one.
We all have a path that is our own. And my path and yours….is awesomeness.

Thought Two
Maybe the lady playing video games with the wall is winning.
Yes the tenderloin can be a very sad place…if that is how you look at it. As I walked home from the gym the other day I saw a lady shooting a wall in an imaginary video game. The friend I was walking with commented about how pathetic it was. I turned to him and said, “Why, she is not hurting anyone one, she is having a great time…and maybe, in her mind..she is winning.” I thought it was kinda awesomeness that in a world of TV and computers this chick still had an imagination left. I wanted to look at the brick wall and see if someone had painted one of those things that after you stare at it, pops out. Remember we are all awesomeness….EMBRACE IT.

Thought Three
Recycle this baby.
Living in the Tenderloin has given me a whole new perception on recycling. I used to recycle like a motherfucker, but living in the TL has simplified my recycling. You all might cringe at this first part, but hear me out. I don’t recycle in my house anymore..I just throw it out. Why…because I am keeping the crack heads busy. My trash get gone through no matter what, they don’t put out my recycling bins till the very end, and crack heads and homeless people make money off of my trash so I want to give them every opportunity to grab it and make some cash. I know that everything that can be recycled they will pull out and recycle it, and it will help them get by. The truth of the matter is I can’t even throw away stuff I want to. A perfect example of this is…...My cat peed on one of my dresses one time so I put that thing in the trash….gross….next day…crack head was wearing it…you know that shit smelled bad, still had the stain on it…I can’t even put shit in the trash if I tried.
Now if it doesn’t fit in the trash that is even easier..chairs, tvs, towels, books, what the fuck ever I put it on the street and in 30 seconds flat that shit is gone. Im thinking about getting rid of my elliptical exercise machine and I might just put in on the street. I have odd visions of a crackhead on the corner of Ellis having a blast on my elliptical with a big ole stupid smile. I might have to do it just so my image comes true and I can get a big kick out of it. TOTALLY…see there are parts to everyone and everything that are totally awesomeness.

So what the fuck is this ding dong trying to say.
Be positive damm it, it makes shit easier to deal with and kinda funny.
And life is funny, you can get grossed out that the chick is wearing a dress my cat peed on, or roll over laughing and get a good giggle. It is time we all come to the conclusion that in our own way we all Rock and WE ARE ALL AWESOMENESS…at least I am damm it.

It is just all in how you look at shit.

Side note…..
We are all awesomeness involves music to. I am over hearing people say that this kind of music sucks or that..stop judging…MUSIC IS ART and just cause it does not float your boat (maybe you didn’t even give it a chance, maybe you were to closed minded to even expand your mind.) no matter what, even if it is just the person who is performing, it is moving someone, it is important and a reflection of someone. If you don’t like it leave, but don’t just sit there and talk shit, that is rude.
Being rude is not awesomeness.
START BEING NICE…that is awesomeness.

I think that people who can’t see how great life is need to take a look at themselves and find the problem. When you start to have a positive view about life and everyone….shit becomes..guess what….

Getting Dressed (this is best after the “hop into the shower dance”)
Make sure you are all toweled all the right spots..tee hee hee. Slip on some panties, then put the bra on…you snap it in the front and twist it back. Make sure your tits are fitting in the bra, you might have to move some shit around. Now its time for the jeans..oh are they tight, give you ass a little shimmy and jump your way in. Suck it in and zip....Now the top, ohh come on, get it over those boobs…good god, now pull it down. Is it belt time..hell yes…loop it, buckle…give yourself a little shake it on down now…..check yourself out in the mirror….damm you look TOTALLY AWESOMENESS (it’s the only way to be…..)

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Blog 10...HOW YOU LIKE THEM APPLES.. (love tales)

Blog 10..HOW YOU LIKE THESE APPLES (love tales)

When I was young I would lie in order to impress people. When I moved to Eugene years ago, I vowed to become honest, and I have learned that I don’t need to lie, who I am as a woman, is pretty impressive. And my honesty now, is one of my best traits…some lessons we have to learn from messing up.
So keeping in that spirit of honesty, and because these are my “diaries” I might as well simply put my heart out there, as if an open book, in the space traveling web…for the simple fact this is who I am…take it or leave it.

I find myself surrounded by love and my heart is torn. I don’t normally let people see this in my heart, but here it goes….

Love A…this is a man I love very true. He is my space traveler, and I know his love for me is real. I feel I have loved him in a past life and our connection is real. Yet I don’t know if he is prepared to love a woman like me, I think it might be more of an effort than he is wiling to give, or is capable of. And I love him, but mine is not the job to teach a man how to be good, nor to wait….yet ours is a love that is true….but does that mean that is enough?
(and just a side note, what happened to going down on a girl, I know I smell good…Im just saying…and where the fuck do you think you are..its California baby…people eat pussy)

Love B….this is a man that I loved and let go away, I knew his issues of the heart with another were not solved I let him flutter away, knowing that he would come back on day. And here he is, saying he now knows how awesome my love is, and how he wants it back. But that does not mean he deserves it, that does not mean he won’t be a chicken fucker again, how do I know whether his love will be true…but when we did love…the laughter we shared breathed glow into my soul. But the chicken fucker factor……

Love C…this is a man, I keep to myself, that I love from a far. I gave him a gift that belonged to my father..for he is a healer just like him. My father heals with his hands, my man with his music. At least he healed me. Yet knowing a man with that much power, my job is not to push, but simply love, whether from afar or right my his side. I feel his spirit needs to touch as many people as possible and far be it from me to hold him back. However if our timing was ever right, I would love him with my whole being.

Love D…this is the man I meet tomorrow, or the next. This is the man that treats me the way I want to be treated, that I have a special connection…there are many out there.

And That leaves me with me.

And I am quite content with that.

Because one of the reasons I consider myself a princess is because of the unconditional love that I have for myself. And no matter which love has the privilage to be with me or if I am just by myself, I know I will not compromise on what I want and what I deserve.

Or as Romance W put it…(this was the singer from the Boom Boom Room: who, as related to previous side note about going down on girls, can beat box and let me tell you…welll, hold on…wheew, I just gave myself a victory lap and changed panties..TOTALLY)…anyhoo, the first time I saw him perform after I told him we would not flutter well together he sang a song about me (I know it was about me cause it started with “her name is Sunny”) he sang about a strong woman, who speaks her mind, who does not care who your are, but how you are, who is positive, who is in love with another guy….he than dedicated the song…


Of course I could have just told him that is simply how a princess rolls…

And I always tell them…”I know you ryder going to miss me when im gone…”

***Tenderloin Shit Shuffle Update****
If you don’t know already…6:15am in the tenderloin is a crazy time..I found myself today walking home with a morning cup of coffee and was in the beginning stages of a Zorro hop when a crack head freaked and dived down and ate what I thought was a turd. My shocked ass dropped my coffee with a look of horror I will not even attempt to explain…the hunched over troll like form than informed me it was a “Jimmy Dean” sausage link…not as gross as eating shit off of the sidewalk..but a dance move I did not see coming.

Shaving the legs…(can we incorporate this into the “hop into the shower dance”)
So start by putting your leg up, get some foam on your hand, smear it all over your leg…get a little dirty with grab the razor, start to shave, gotta reach behind, might have to twist, rinse off the shaver…rinse off the leg…REPEAT DANCE BUT WITH OTHER LEG…..after both legs are done, feel how soft your legs are with your hand…as if your shin were a slip and slide….victory.